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ktrsvo · 7 years

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home is here, with me

in which a boy falls in love with his best friend six times over the span of eleven years.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116882

Shouto is seven when he falls in love for the first time.

His name is Midoriya Izuku, and he’s new to their school. Warm-skinned, curly-haired, and dimpled, with freckles dusted across his cheeks like powdered sugar, he is easily the cutest boy Shouto has ever laid eyes on. Yaoyorozu says love at first sight doesn’t exist or make any sense, but even though she’s the smartest in their class and therefore right about most things, Shouto knows for certain that she’s wrong about this one.

“You should go talk to him, then. Unless you’re too chicken,” Yaoyorozu suggests during recess, primly lifting her skirt as they hop over a stretch of mud.

There on the bench Midoriya sits, deep in conversation with the aspiring astronaut girl—Uraraka Ochako. He’s waving his hands around like a magician Shouto once saw on television—all loud gestures and bold lines, every movement conveying purpose, intent. He even has the gaze of one, too; his eyes, they’re as bright as twin stars and just as enthralling, in the sense that if you look too long you’ll eventually be sucked into their orbit, spellbound.

“I know. And I will,” Shouto says, scuffing his shoes against the sand. A dusty plume dislodges from the ground. Yaoyorozu frowns at him.

“Now you’ve done it,” she sighs. “Your best pair, ruined.” After a while, she tugs him under the shade of a wide, wide maple tree no kid their age ever dares climb, and tries to force him into brushing up on his arithmetic skills.

Instead Shouto watches Midoriya from afar. Watches the sunlight catch on the green of his hair. Watches it splay across his face, freckles rendered aglow.

This mooning goes over a week with no move made on Shouto’s part when the teacher assigns Midoriya to Shouto’s table group. The two other kids Shouto sits with quickly become dull and lifeless to the tidal wave that is Midoriya.

He is overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way. In a supremely awesome way, Shouto decides when Midoriya gives him a large grin over his book of fairytales.

“It’s nice to meet you, Todoroki!” Midoriya exclaims, scooting closer to him.

Shouto says, “Hi.” Or maybe he mumbles it out instead. He should stop doing that; Yaoyorozu says no one’s ever going to like a grouch, and that’s pretty terrifying. He wants Midoriya to like him. Needs it to be the case.

But instead of faltering Midoriya’s smile grows, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Lighting up his face at the seams. “Hey, so, do you want to be my friend?” he asks, syllables lifting with buoyancy.

Obviously, the answer is a big yes, and hopefully, hopefully , it’s uttered with a lot more enthusiasm than intended, but it’s hard to tell because Midoriya responds to even the smallest of things with the same amount of verve as he would very important matters. He’s amazing like that, and Shouto doesn’t waste any time telling Yaoyorozu at lunch later on.

She concedes, “Well, I suppose you’re really in love with him, then,” and sneaks a glance at the other table. Peals of laughter sound from across the room. Something funny must have happened; Midoriya is doubling over from what Uraraka has just said.

Shouto stares at Yaoyorozu. Says, “Of course I am,” in his most matter-of-fact voice.

One year passes by, and at this point Shouto has come to know Midoriya and his interests fairly well. Those red hi-tops that he wears all the time, for example, Shouto knows from careful observation are his favourite shoes in the entire world. And it’s easy to tell whenever he has katsudon for lunch because he’ll be the first to get out his lunchbox.

“So you have been talking to him more,” Yaoyorozu says, pleased.

“Yes. I asked him if I could borrow his pencil not once but five times. And in the same week, too,” Shouto says, because he kind of has to make a point.

“Wait, what? That’s it? Huh.” Yaoyorozu raises her eyebrows, smile fading. “Sure sounds like a real step forward.”

“So?” Shouto flicks off the eraser shavings on his desk, and fixes her with an annoyed look. “I mean, he talks a lot, but who cares, I’d much rather listen to him.” He pauses, then breathes out, “Did you know that there was this one time when he told me that my bag was really cool?” A breeze flaps in through the open windows, stirring the curtains. Sighing with him, too.

“Great,” is the reply he gets, but it doesn’t matter because he is going to prove her wrong one of these days.

And prove her wrong he does over the next few months; slowly, surely, in the way waves break out over a sea, Shouto gets closer and closer to Midoriya Izuku. The signs of their growing bond is there in every word, every smile, every glance exchanged between them. Surely Midoriya feels it, too, because, yes, Shouto has started to reach out in any way that he can.

“You’re pretty advanced at reading,” Shouto comments in a hushed voice as they’re reading a book about a cat, a witch, and flying cacti.

There are many things Shouto adores about Midoriya—if he wrote a list about it, he’s pretty sure it would be longer than the Earth is wide—and this one right here just so happens to be one of his favourites: his blush.

When other people blush, their faces get all weird and splotchy, like a splash of gouache paint, but when Midoriya does it, he does it slow, much in the way a sunrise creeps out over the horizon; first, the tips of his ears go red, followed by his cheeks, high colour subtly blossoming into life.

It’s beautiful, really.

“Thanks,” Midoriya whispers back, giving Shouto that lovely dimpled smile, and it’s possible that Shouto’s heart stops beating for a moment. Or two.

“Can you—can you please read this word to me?” Shouto asks, feigning confusion, and Midoriya sidles close to him, happy to oblige.

This close Shouto can feel warmth radiating off of him, and when their hands brush Shouto falls in love with Midoriya Izuku for the second time.

Third grade comes along in a whirl of new faces, new lessons, new teachers. This year Midoriya doesn’t share the same class as he does, but Shouto tries not to feel too disappointed; there’s always lunchtime, recess, and after school. Still plenty of opportunities to hang out.

Except not really; fourth grade introduces annihilation in the form of Bakugou Katsuki, a sharp-eyed, sharp-cornered boy with fire for a voice and steel for fists. It’s easy to tell when he has entered a room, because a hushed, quavering tenseness will slip in, combustible at the edges, and Midoriya will turn rigid, white-knuckled, silent.

Everything he is usually not.

“Useless Deku,” Bakugou might bark out during a game of tag. “It’d sure suck to be as slow as you.” Then Midoriya will murmur, in a small, subdued voice, “That’s mean, Kacchan,” and Bakugou will laugh at him or, worse, push him.

Needless to say, Midoriya leaving school with bandaids and bruises becomes a frequent occurrence.

“Kacchan has always been like that,” Midoriya tells Shouto in a miserable voice one Friday as the bell rings to mark the end of the day. “I just wish he wouldn’t pick on me so much.”

Shouto looks Midoriya right in the eye. Takes Midoriya’s scarred, trembling hands into his. “I’ll kill him,” Shouto promises solemnly, because Midoriya doesn’t deserve this.

Lovely, lovely Midoriya, who talks too much and cries easily and turns inconsolable at any onscreen animal deaths.

Midoriya sputters, aghast. “But—but what if he kills you first?”

“He won’t,” Shouto says, though he’s not a hundred percent sure. Boys like Bakugou were born with violence in their veins, after all. “I’m not going to let him hurt you again.”

“Well, I won’t let you fight him. You can’t die!” His voice lowers to a whisper. “I can’t lose you!”

A pleasant warmth fills Shouto end-to-end, and he decides right there and then that losing isn’t an option. “When we grow up someday, I’m going to marry you, Midoriya,” he says very seriously, as serious as a nine-year-old can be. “So if there’s one person who won’t be walking out the door, it isn’t going to be me.”

With that Shouto takes off, leaving a stunned Midoriya in the dust.

As expected, Bakugou is by the swing-sets in the yard, flanked by his cronies, terrorizing a knobby-kneed third-grader. The king of the playground no longer once Shouto’s through with him, Shouto thinks.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Shouto calls out.

The raucous jeers halt. Bakugou turns around, every inch fire and crushed glass. “Eh? What do you want?” he snaps, releasing the third-grader. The kid bolts, running for the hills. Then, with his eyes narrowed, Bakugou says, “Hold on a minute, you’re dumb Deku’s stupid boyfriend.”

“Guy must have a death wish,” his friend cackles.The others crow in assent.

“The next time you want to fight him, you’ll have to go through me first,” Shouto warns, holding Bakugou’s gaze coolly.

Bakugou steps forward, out of the shade. The sun sets alight the blonde of his hair.

Just like the flame of a matchstick, the fight only lasts for a second, or maybe two. One moment they’re tussling on the ground, and the next a teacher is prying them apart, Midoriya crying in the background.

But Shouto hardly feels it, hardly feels the blow dealt to his chest. I got one in, he thinks a little proudly. On Bakugou’s jaw, no less.

Once back inside the building, the teacher scolds Bakugou and Shouto. No recess for a week is their punishment. A tradeoff worth the blood dripping down Shouto’s nose, Shouto thinks. And the scolding he’ll get from his father later on. What’s a second’s worth of pain compared to the tight embrace Midoriya gives him afterwards, really?

(And just like that they become best friends, not just friends, and, with Midoriya’s head tucked into the crook of Shouto’s shoulder, Shouto falls in love for the third time.)

“Did you know that Neptune has fourteen moons?” Izuku whispers, breaths escaping in puffs of white.

Izuku has a treehouse in his backyard, and right now they’re having a sleepover there. It’s an old thing, made of groaning planks whorled with age and shot through with twisting vines. Shouto normally wouldn’t have been able to stay, but his father is currently on a plane to Beijing and will be gone for two weeks, so his sister eagerly approved of the arrangement.

The moonlight filtering through the gaps creates odd shapes of the makeshift furniture: trees, penguins, castle turrets. Shouto says, “No.” Frankly, he doesn’t care, but he just wants to hear Izuku speak.

Izuku shifts his head, and the lighting makes his freckles glow like fireflies. “Okay. Um, how about the fact that there’s more than one sun in the universe?”

Now that Shouto knows. I’m looking at one right now, Shouto nearly says but doesn’t. Upon further reevaluation he decides that it’s probably not the best comparison because no one likes looking at the sun, anyway, in fear of getting blinded. So there. “Mhm,” he says absently.

Then Izuku’s mom calls them back into the house for cookies and milk, and the warmth that floods Shouto’s body might as well be molten sunlight, with the way all seems soft-hued and golden—the colour of youth. Comfort. Hope.

The first day of junior high brings blue, blue skies, fresh spirits, crisp new clothes, pristine textbooks, and a seemingly auspicious beginning. But it also brings changes, some as subtle as losing your baby fat around the jaw, others gradual like shooting up five inches.

Which is to be expected, naturally; people always become different once they hit seventh grade. It’s when the childish wonder and innocence starts chipping away, after all, like cracks forming on a sidewalk. Like paint flaking off of a wall. It’s when you trade a soft-skinned and vulnerable version of yourself for someone tougher. More jaded. Battle-worn, somehow.

And right there always lies some grim epoch of your life, and Shouto can fully attest to this fact because it’s when Midoriya Izuku falls in love for the first time.

(And gets his heart broken not once or twice, but three times.)

The first heartbreaker is a girl named Rina. All curves and coy smiles and bouncing curls, one look from her could render a room rose-pink and dreamed-out. Render poor, unfortunate souls loose-lipped and far-gone.

(Shouto will never forget how Izuku’s shoulders curled inwards in shame when she crumpled his note in front of a derisive crowd.)

Hideo is the second one, and it had been painful to watch him mass-message their entire grade Izuku’s puppy-eyed reaction towards his “confession.”

The third one is Miki and by far the worst; she and Izuku went out for at least two weeks before Shouto found out that she was stringing along four other boys. Izuku cried into Shouto’s shoulder on an empty stairway that day, and didn’t smile for at least a week afterwards.

Each and every time, without fail, Shouto is always there to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, in whatever ungainly way he can. Maybe it works, or maybe it doesn’t, because the process always feels like putting back together with gloveless hands the jagged fragments of a blown-glass sculpture.

It does hurt, to be honest. And what makes the pain even worse is the realization that Shouto has fallen in love with the same boy for the fourth time, the realization that there is absolutely no goddamn force in this world that can ever break or slow down his fall, Yaoyorozu’s calculations notwithstanding.

In retrospect, junior high is a calm, cloudless fracture in time compared to the storm-grey turbulence that is high school. Ninth grade bleeds into tenth grade in a dizzying blur, and that’s when Shouto’s life enters its next phase, metamorphosis halfway complete.

From here on out, the waters are murky and brackish, frothing at the shoreline like some wild-mouthed beast.

His father, for instance, is just one of the many factors stirring up Shouto’s life . Not a day goes by without the man discussing the future prospects of his company. The importance of continuing their lineage. How he will mold Shouto into a crown jewel, the best of the best, whatever that goddamn means.

With the added homework, after-school activities, and tutoring sessions, Shouto doesn’t have time for a lot of things. Like dealing with half-formed urges that have him breaking out in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, thinking of tan, sweat-slick skin. Woodland-green eyes. Rough, calloused hands. Dimpled smiles.

As a consequence, he and Izuku sort of drift apart. They’ll always be friends, though, Shouto knows as much, but lately he’s felt like there’s been some sort of seismic shift that’s changed the very foundations of their relationship. Torn apart the framework, like slicing loose a ligament.

High school Izuku is different from middle school Izuku. He is quieter, more pensive, less unsure of himself, and a lot less reliant on waterworks for catharsis. It’s the boxing, Shouto thinks, Izuku’s newfound outlet, where he can lose himself among the groans of the punching bags, the crunch of leather, the salty tang of energy.

In the looks department, he’s changed by a fair amount, too. Less round and more sturdy, all broad lines and muscles. The childish sparkle remains, though. A little dimmed by age but still there.

When Shouto was young, he always thought of what it would be like to kiss his best friend. But, now, he’s thinking of something a lot deeper than that.

Girls start paying Shouto a lot more attention, for some reason. It’s not uncommon to find a note stashed in the bowels of his locker, or a number scrawled on his books. But really, he can’t begin to understand why.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Izuku teases him during a warm-up in gym class.

“What is?” It’s hard to look away from the sweat lines running down Izuku’s arms. Neck. Face. Even harder to pry his gaze from is the toned shape of Izuku’s biceps—and the lightly corded vein lines that come along with it.

Izuku tilts his head. Blanks out for a moment, before returning with an answer: “It’s your face.”

The chatter of the other students fades away into white noise. Shouto raises an eyebrow. Go on .

Izuku draws himself up to his full height. Looks at Shouto with an unfathomable emotion swirling in his gaze. “I don’t know if you know this,” he says, freckles deep brown and glowing, “but you’re beautiful, Shouto. So, so beautiful.”

It’s true what happens in movies, Shouto finds out. The way things crawl into a halt, blurring out sounds and backgrounds and more sounds. Because right here, right now, the sunlight has the world suspended in honey. In amber.

Shouto looks away. Looks down at his sneakers. Izuku always says nice things like this about everyone he’s friendly with, he reminds himself firmly. Shouto won’t allow his long-suffering feelings to make a big deal out of the compliment.

But, just like that, Shouto falls hopelessly in love with Izuku all over again.

(It’s getting ridiculous. Honestly.)

“Yo, Midoriya,” Kaminari calls out one lazy afternoon in class. “You coming to my party tonight?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure,” Shouto hears Izuku say a little distractedly.

Kirishima turns around and props his elbows on Izuku’s desk. “Hey, what’s up with you?” he says. “Uraraka, come over here, does he look a little spaced out to you or is it just me?”

Uraraka agrees, “It’s not just you.”

“Seriously, are you thinking of a special someone or what?” Kaminari jokes, ruffling Izuku’s hair.

Shouto freezes. Feels the single earphone plugged inside his ear go limp.

Izuku sighs. “If I tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

Cheers and clapping ensue in response.

“I am,” Izuku says without any ounce, any trace of levity. “I have been for a long time.”

Everything turns a little greyer and smudged out after that revelation. Shouto doesn’t hesitate to stuff his ears with music, volume cranked up to a level bordering on deafening.

Shouto has his first kiss at Kaminari’s party in the dimness of a stuffy closet, back pressed against a dusty stack of yellowing books, a sonorous bass pounding in his chest—the result of a single, stupid round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

It’s not so much a kiss as it is an awkward bumping of mouths.

If Shouto really, really focuses, he can pretend that he’s kissing a certain someone with stubbornness for days and an endless supply of laughter to boot. Someone with a slightly crooked half-smile and constellations traced onto his flesh. Someone who can transform all the liquid in Shouto’s body into ever-igniting gasoline—hot, honey-heavy, and steady.

But the scent, the feel, the shape—they’re not right. Instead they’re about twenty shades of wrong, starting from the smoothness of the mystery boy’s skin, and going right down to his cloying bergamot-and-cedar cologne.

It’s a poor distraction, but it beats out chasing pavements by a mile.

“Shouto, wanna come over later?” Izuku asks, jogging to catch up with him.

Shouto shakes his head. “Can’t. Yaoyorozu says I need to touch up on titrations.” Liar.

Izuku’s expression wavers. “Oh. I’ll ... um, see you, then.”

Shouto nods. Tugs on his bangs.

Things only get busier and busier, and Shouto discovers just how easy it is to make up excuses. He packs his schedule with tests, assignments, activities, leaving no crevice, no crack unfilled. There are always things to do, a shitty father to put up with, and biological necessities to manage.

So a fallout happens, but Shouto does not acknowledge it until it becomes bitter residue in his mind, the melted wax of a candle left unattended.

Occasionally they’ll pass each other in the hallways and exchange small greetings. Part of Shouto screams at him to initiate reconciliation, to fix whatever has broken between them. Nothing is unfixable if you put your mind to it. But instead Shouto leaves the line drawn out, fraying throughout and untouched.

The images of his smiles burned onto Shouto’s eyelids stretch it out even further.

It’s always a bad sign when a warm memory now leaves you cold.

Sad to say, this goes on for the next few years of high school. Until the very last day, with tearful goodbyes and bawling mothers and proud fathers and excited siblings milling in the background.

Shouto has never been one for sentimentality, but an odd sense of loss settles into his pores once the final verses of the farewell song dwindle into a low, quavering melody.

For a moment he thinks of the place he’d carved out for himself among his peers, the camaraderie established by proximity and fostered by necessity. He thinks of Yaoyorozu and her neverending repertoire of scientific facts, her ocean-deep well of intelligence (It would do him well to thank her for sticking with him throughout the years). Then of Iida, Kirishima, Jirou, Uraraka, Kaminari, and the rest of his classmates. Even of Bakugou, strangely enough.

But most of all, he thinks of the boy who had blazed into his life that one spring day all those years ago. The boy who had snatched away Shouto’s entire heart and left nothing behind. The boy who is always, always, always there in Shouto’s dreams. The boy Shouto has loved for so, so long.

Shouto will sure miss all of them. Especially him. Because in about a week’s time a plane will carry Shouto into a foreign city where a brand new life at a posh university awaits, as per his father’s ungracious demands. Where everything, from the cobblestone streets to ivory basilicas, reeks of unfamiliarity, where he will be forced to relearn a new rhythm, a new dance—an utterly draining task.

Then there’s a tug on his sleeve, two fingers pinched at the cuff. “Hey.” A pair of warm green eyes and a disarming smile greet him.

A mild case of vertigo sets in. “Hi,” Shouto gets out, chest constricting.

Izuku cocks his head towards the doors, eyebrows lifting. “Have a minute?” Does he even need to ask? Shouto follows him outside, where the sky is dark and the moon in full bloom.

“Remember the wishing game we used to play as kids, Shouto?” Izuku asks as they settle down on the grass, far away from the music and the energy and the people.

Shouto says, with no small amount of fondness, “I may be old, but I’m not that old.”

Izuku grins and in that instant the chasm between them fully seals, like high school never happened and their feelings never got in the way of what they had. And suddenly Shouto fully remembers how Izuku has always made him feel complete, like he’s every beautiful thing in the world captured by a single lithe stroke, in the form of a boy with snow-pale skin and odd mismatching eyes.

The stars wink down at them as the wishing game commences. A breeze sweeps by, bending the grass like ripples in a field of wheat and swallowing their whispers, their breaths. They might as well be children again, lost in a kingdom of their own creation with thoughts and ideas too big for their souls.

“Do you think I could have all the moons in the sky?” Izuku says.

Shouto’s lips twitch. “You’ve always been unrealistic.”

“How about all the seas on Earth?”

“Seriously?”

“Okay, jeez. What about the mountains, or the rivers?”

“Let’s go with one thing.”

There’s a pause and a sigh. “The sun?”

Shouto watches Izuku, something flashing in Izuku’s eyes. Serenity. Joy. And beneath that … “Good luck with getting burnt to a crisp,” he says.

Izuku shifts closer to him. Suddenly Shouto can barely hear the rustling, the whispering of the wind. Then: “Can I have you?”

Love, the answer makes itself known in the shine of Izuku’s eyes, the softness of his smile. Shouto nearly stops breathing, nearly breaks down. Instead he leans in and kisses Izuku—the boy of his dreams. The boy he’s wanted right from the very start.

“You’ve always had me,” Shouto whispers into his mouth, burning with starlight.

Izuku’s hands are warm against his wrists. They pull apart for a moment, and Izuku says, hoarsely, “I’m an absolute idiot, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Actually, you’re eleven years too late,” Shouto says. “Didn’t I promise you that I’d marry you one day?”

Izuku laughs, and Shouto kisses him again, bearing him down on the grass. Shouto’s heart is a supernova in the making, expanding with every fiery trace of Izuku’s fingers along Shouto’s chest, back, spine. Seconds, minutes, hours pass them by, and Shouto is sorry. Sorry that it can’t last the way it would have had they only had more time.

Later, when they’re lying down, fingers interlaced, limbs tangled, Shouto says to Izuku, “You know I’m leaving, right?”

Izuku tilts his head, nose grazing Shouto’s neck. “I know.”

Stars spin high over their heads, but just like the passage of time they stop for no one.

“i dont care though,” Izuku continues, sleepily, “because I’d wait five, ten, fifteen for you, and then more.” His lips chase Shouto’s jaw. “I really, really would.”

“Is that a promise I hear?”

“Don’t you know it.”

They link pinkies, and, under the glow of a full moon, Todoroki Shouto falls in love with Midoriya Izuku for the sixth time.

#i figured i should just post this thing here too #i wanna write more things #im free now thankfully tho #tododeku #tddk au series #me: what if we wrote the lifeguard au thing #ok nvr mind

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13atoms · 3 years

Text

Deep Focus: Chapter 1 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom’s a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. [7.7k]

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There was such a style to everything Tom wrote, everything he directed. A sincere passion that you suspected was always meant to be used elsewhere. You wondered if his craftsmanship was ever appreciated, on the other side of the screen, as strangers got hot and bothered watching each meticulously designed frame of his vision come to life.

Sure, it was porn. But Tom directed it like he could win an Oscar for ‘hot lifeguard pounded poolside’. This was his livelihood, his passion, and it was a damn shame he wasn’t award-season eligible.

The names would make you wince, as you saw them uploaded to the site, thumbnails and previews drawing in viewers by the million with their shots of heaving bodies and glistening sweat. Tom never called the videos such crass things. Not in his scripts. You would get copies titled ‘Romantic Night In’ or ‘Office Love Affair.’ He was a fan of sugar-coating what would be inside those innocuous white pages, a veneer of respectability which Tom insisted upon, regardless of how obvious the true nature of the videos was. But once the videos were sold, it was out of his hands. Your face contorted mid-faux-orgasm would be plastered across the site, and everyone involved would try and forget what happened.

Ignore the comments.

Keep moving.

You often wondered how Tom wound up in this place, with his sharply tailored suits and polished shoes, eloquent and educated, his words almost poetic as he directed mid-budget porn in hotel rooms and his studio day-in, day-out.

Then again, he never seemed particularly bothered by it. He gave each shoot his full attention, his full boundless enthusiasm and all the professionalism he could muster. You wondered how he balanced it, sometimes, the creative drive to press on with trying to be creative and shoehorn romance into films knowing that, ultimately, it was porn.

He had interviewed you like a real director might, talking about your life and experience and ambitions, almost apologetic when he had finally choked out ‘could you undress’, barely glancing at your naked form before he hired you as his first employee.

You asked him early on, while watching him try and assemble a fake restaurant-date set in the studio, complete with faux windows and an extra playing a waiter, why he bothered when three-minutes of good quality fucking footage would make him the same amount of money. He’d given you a strange smile, the wrinkles beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes, and shrugged.

“I make what I’d like to see.”

The words haunted you later, as your rather attractive co-star bent you over the white-cloth covered dining table and you allowed mewls and groans to escape your mouth without a second thought. Trying to avoid the muted blue of Tom’s eyes behind the cameraman.

Despite your reservations when you first started to work for him, Tom had won you over. His gentler, more romantic approach to pornography had a loyal following. Both of your pseudonyms garnered huge numbers of views across various platforms, and Tom was keen to cultivate a collection of female-friendly porn. Against all the odds, it was working.

And you loved working with him. He was a great director, and inspired writer, and a genuinely brilliant boss. He made sure you saw royalties, good pay, that everyone you worked with was screened and tested, always keeping you safe. Always.

Each time he called a wrap, passing you a robe and offering a meek congratulations on your performance, you found yourself more and more pleased you had wound up working with him.

“You really do have a talent,” he’d told you one day, distracting you as you discussed a new script in his office.

You were sat opposite him, Tom’s glasses perched on his head as he watched you read, your feet resting against the leg of his desk. You’d come in to your shared workspace to try some costumes out, to discuss new scenes, still recovering from a thoroughly exhausting shoot the day before. There were still light bruises around your wrists, and you caught Tom glancing at them worriedly each time your long-sleeved shirt slipped.

“I love that you’re such an actor,” he continued, hands tapping the desk as he spoke, “like, a real actor.”

Your eyes drifted across the script, scanning it with your bottom lip between your teeth. He always appreciated your input, wanting the ‘female fantasy’ in a lot of his work, and he’d timidly shown you some ‘student-professor’ script he’d been working on. He was like that, embarrassed in a way which you wouldn’t expect from a man with his considerable experience in adult entertainment. He was assertive, certain, even stern where it counted. But with just the two of you together, dancing around what was sexy and what wasn’t, he seemed desperate to avoid saying anything you might perceive as too ‘crude’.

“What do you mean?” you’d chuckled, still flicking through the first draft.

He only entrusted you with such early versions of his work – but that made sense. Your careers were symbiotic, tied to one another with an unspoken pact. He directed everything you were in, and you were in everything he directed.

It made sense.

“You don’t just… I don’t know. You never make my scripts seem silly. Or cheesy. You… you really try and make them feel real. I could write anything, and you’ll deliver the lines well. I was overseeing auditions earlier and... I just kept thinking none of them were you. I think you might be the best in the business.”

You rolled your eyes, offering him a disbelieving smirk, and he scoffed.

“I’m serious! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words settled heavy in your chest, and you turned back to the script, frowning as you flicked through the loose-leaf pages. Tom fidgeted behind his desk, unhappy with losing your attention, but you ignored him.

“Here. If you want the fantasy to be believable, I think he needs to lock the office door. Make a show of it, you know. Cover my mouth,” you comment dismissively. Tom already has as pen in his hand, making notes. “It could be hot, maybe ‘Don’t make a sound or you can’t cum’, something like that. As if there’s other students in the corridor outside.”

Nodding, Tom dutifully wrote down your words, mouth slightly open in realisation as he listened.

“Don’t make a sound…” Tom repeated, and you felt yourself blush.

“Not… not that exactly,” you backtracked, “you’re the real writer! I just think, there needs to be some build up. A remind of the power dynamic. Him going straight to oral is a bit… fast. That could happen in any old plot, you know?”

You felt his eyes on you, looking up from the paper to spot Tom leaning back in his chair, a distant smile on his face.

“You really are the best,” he praised, “that’s great. I’ll do rewrites tonight.”

For a moment, you let his words hang heavy in the air. Then you blinked back at him, a slight frown pinching your forehead at his strange mood. He was calm, for once. Tom was usually a ball of enthusiasm, and you wondered if your dismissal of his words earlier had done something to hamper his spirit.

“It’s always easier to critique,” you dismissed, “I love the script, it’s great. I really think it’ll be good. Hot. Maybe I can wear a Britneyschool girl costume, or something?”

He frowned a little, pinching the bridge of his nose at the thought.

“No, weird. We’re going for University student, just… a nice pair of jeans or something.”

“Don’t they wear suits where you went, posh boy?” you teased, loving how it riled him up. “I’ll try and dress like a smart person.”

“You are smart, don’t give me that.”

You rolled your eyes, loving how you managed to fluster him, putting the script back on his cluttered desk as you reached for your bag. This was how your meetings always went, a few hours of notes, some teasing, and a hasty retreat once Tom told you the next shoot day you had to attend. You still had a few hours of social media to do for the last video you’d shot together, notes from Tom, and you lamented the sight of the sun setting outside of your shared office. You’d hoped for at least a bit of natural light today.

“I’m serious, you are!” Tom asserted, and you ignored him purposely as you shut down your laptop, preparing to take it home.

“Yeah, I know, whatever. Don’t work too late!”

“Rich coming from you,” he sighed, “it really doesn’t matter if we send that last edit late.”

“It matters to me! I’d quite like to get paid this week, you know?”

Tom sighed. The two of you tried to produce a couple of videos a week – one for Tom’s site and another to sell to a third party. It didn’t leave either of you with much free time, both of you left in the tiny office at all hours as you worked to keep up with demand.

“Very true. But I’d rather you got some sleep, you know I can help if you’re short on money,” he offered, shuffling papers on his own desk.

He was always quick to jump to an offer to help, and you tried to ignore the fondness spreading through your chest at his eagerness to look out for you. That gentle protectiveness which coursed through Tom was enough to make you melt.

He was one in a million, that was for sure.

“I’m fine, Tom. Thank you though, I’ll ask, if, y’know –”

“Do! Any time. Actually…”

Tom cut himself off, typing something into his phone, and your pocket buzzed with a notification.

“Get yourself a nice dinner.”

You checked your phone to see a transfer from Tom. It wasn’t a crazy amount, but too much for just dinner, and you huffed performatively as he grinned at you.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous –”

He barely made more than you, and you were certainly doing perfectly comfortably.

“Royalties are really good this month. That old break-up sex video is trending again, apparently.”

You smothered a smile. It was hate-fucking, as you’d told Tom a hundred times. That was the title. You could still remember the look on his face the day you’d filmed it, his twitchiness, the unknown male actor who had slightly scared both of you with his sheer size as he stepped into the studio. The male star had fucked you like you’d broken his heart, hands on your neck and hips bruising yours as he pounded into you, and you’d be a little alarmed at how little you had needed to act in his domineering presence. He’d been muscular and tall and assertive, almost injuring you with his enthusiasm, and the shoot had ended with you a sweaty mess, struggling to walk, eyes watery.

You had ached from the moment Tom helped you up from the bed, a protective body between you and your costar as you watched the man collect his clothes and his paycheck. The footage had been great, you’d watched Tom edit it, but it had been your first taste of Tom’s protectiveness. The actor had never returned, and Tom had bought a hot water bottle for the office, pressing it into your lap as he brought tea for the pair of you, loathing how you winced as you moved.

He’d taken you out for dinner that night to celebrate a good edit, but you knew the real reason. That neither of you wanted the other to be alone. It had been a lovely evening, a restaurant then a bar, without a break in laughing conversation the entire night. It hadn’t been a date, but if it had been a date, it would’ve been the nicest date you’d ever been on. In those moments, you wondered if Tom was really cut out for the industry. If you were.

As much as Tom hated the film, it was hot. It had propelled your studio into the spotlight, and it paid a significant chunk of your rent.

“Thank you,” you smiled to him, wracking your mind for anything else that needed discussing before you headed home.

Maybe you’d get takeaway. That would be nice.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What are we shooting tomorrow, by the way?”

You looked up at his words, frowning a little at the realisation you hadn’t been given a script yet. It was unlike him, to be so unprepared. Usually everything was organised weeks in advance. With a glance at the shadows under his eyes, you decided not to tease him about it.

“We’re shooting tomorrow?”

“This week… we’ve only got one video. I was just thinking something simple, I haven’t called a costar yet, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to –”

It was your paycheck on the line as much as Tom’s, and you wondered how the hell you’d forgotten.

“Do we have a camera crew?” you frowned.

“No, not yet. I can call though. Or I could just do it myself, if we’re not doing anything too complicated?”

You thought for a moment, leaning against the open doorframe as Tom started to pack up his own desk, nimble fingers tapping across his keyboard.

“Solo?” you suggested, stifling a laugh as Tom blinked and tilted his head to face you.

“I missed that, love?”

“Solo. Like ‘hot female solo’ or something?”

He smiled slightly, closing his laptop lid.

“That’ll do well, I’m sure. Do we need anything costume-wise? Props?”

Toys. He meant toys. You smiled at his refusal to call a spade a damn spade.

“I’m sure we can find everything here. It’ll be nice to do a simple shoot for a change,” you enthused, holding the door for Tom as he moved to turn off the lights, lingering nearby as he locked up the office.

“Yeah. Single-shot, no camera-man either.”

“Cheap,” you sighed, as though it was the sexiest thing in the world.

You did the books, and avoiding having any more costs this month sounded great.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled, falling into step beside you as the two of you left the warehouse studio.

He looked ready to say something else, but changed his mind. For a second the two you stood by the exit, words trapped beneath your closed lips as the early evening air enveloped you.

“Do you need a lift home?” Tom finally offered.

“No. No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time. Twelve?”

“Perfect.”

He reached an arm out, ready for you to walk into his embrace, and you froze. The moment was over as soon as it started, his arm retracted, and you could only stare. His hand found the curls at the back of his head, scratching there, a blush dusting his cheeks in the harsh fluorescent lights of the car park. You could kick yourself as you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clench of his jaw. He felt awkward. You contemplated hugging him, but the moment had passed. Instead you rocked on your heels for a second, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Tom!”

“‘Night! Look after yourself, don’t forget dinner. I’ll see you – ”

He cut himself off as you walked too far away, and you could have kicked yourself for the sadness in his final syllable. You sighed as your feet fell against the pavement, your whole walk home haunted by the awkward shuffle of Tom’s hands as he went to hug you goodbye.

You were surprised by how difficult it was to brush off that awkward memory. As you ordered and ate dinner, you were reminded of Tom with every bite, that he’d snuck aside part of the company’s petty cash budget to give you dinner. That both of you had gone home, separately, to separate empty houses and empty beds.

Had he wanted to go for drinks? Wanted company? You had come to accept a long time ago that the man was your closest friend. He would be the person you called in an emergency, a shoulder to cry on. You liked to think he’d lean on you the same way.

Despite that, you spent limited time together outside of a professional context. You never met up on weekends, or casually called. Of course you didn’t. He made a career out of seeing you naked, watching you fake orgasms for other men. As you readied yourself for the day, you reminded yourself that of course, he would be nice to his only full-time, very lucrative actress. To his business partner.

As you’d queued up the company’s social media posts the night before, you could only think of Tom behind the camera, orchestrating each photo and clip you uploaded.

You couldn’t help the grin which split your face as you walked into the studio, bag flung over your shoulder, overpacked with everything you thought you could possibly need. Tom greeted you, emerging from his office with a smile.

Before you could overthink it, you walked into his arms, giving him very little choice in the matter as you greeted him with a hug. In his surprise you felt his body stiffen, his arms slowly wrapping around you, and you were momentarily gobsmacked by the muscular form he seemed to hide behind those suits.

He was a little more dressed down today, smart black jeans and a button-up white shirt, unruly hair sticking up like it did when he forgot to brush it. He looked better than yesterday, like he’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Good morning,” he chuckled, bemusement clear in his voice.

You pulled back from the hug, a little embarrassed at the affection until you saw the smile stretching across his face, reaching his eyes. Suddenly the previous night, worrying you had inadvertently rejected him, seemed to be erased.

“Morning! What have you got for me?”

The studio space was cleaned, but empty. The camera stood in the corner as Tom lead you further into the room, his office door open to the side of it, and you frowned at the emptiness of the space.

There were tape marks on the floor where sets were usually assembled, conspicuous without the usual hive of activity buzzing around some piece of furniture you would be thrown onto or fucked against. There was nothing.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Tom was saying, his gentle voice booming in the empty space, “we don’t have a script or anything so… I’ll leave it to you.”

You bit your lip.

It was more freedom than you were used to, less direction, less to build the fantasy where you could forget you were ultimately in a warehouse with just your business partner. It was… nothing. Tom said your name quietly, and you nodded, stepping back to assess the space.

“I’m just thinking,” you reassured him.

Had the studio always been this quiet? You tried to remember a shoot day where it had been this silent, this calm, without the stress of lighting people or cameramen or scripts being thrown around. You could hear every step Tom took as he walked towards the camera, the wheel-mounted tripod creaking as he moved it across the floor, checking batteries and SD cards while you stood in place, your bag still hanging from one shoulder.

Noticing your frozen stance Tom frowned across at you, nothing but gentle concern in his blue eyes and the fine lines around them.

“I was thinking something kind of minimal, maybe cosy?” he offered, “Maybe an armchair? Something like that?”

You thought about it for a moment, crossing to the corner of the room to finally set down your bag.

He was finally getting into ‘director mode’, growing more energetic by the second.

“I’m thinking we just frame it on you, no distraction. Single take, if we can.”

You nodded silently as he crossed to the storage cupboard he’s overeagerly labelled a ‘props department’. It was stacked high with fabric and furniture and lingerie, tubs of various exotic sex toys near the door. Tom stepped straight past them.

There was a mattress in the props room, materials to build a bed, and you pondered on the idea for a moment.

“We could keep it really simple, maybe?” you suggested, “Find a warm background. Or just use white. Try and get one twenty minute shot, or something.”

You reached for lube without thought, collecting the near-empty bottle of body oil beside it too, as you perused the options in front of you.

“Remind me to buy more of that,” Tom mused, sparing a glance to the bottles in your arms before standing beside you to peruse the options.

You nodded silently, your free hand rifling through bagged silicone toys, slightly in a daze as you picked out a few options. There was a slight blush dusted across Tom’s high cheekbones as he turned to see your arms full of dildos. You smiled as it took him a second to find words, and wondered how the hell he’d chosen to start a porn studio in the first place.

“Colour co-ordinated,” he commented, and you smiled, picking out yet another pink toy from the pile.

“Naturally,” you smiled, “I think that’s everything? Could we drag a mattress and pillows out?”

He nodded silently, already moving to manoeuvre the double mattress leaning against a wall in the props room. You rolled your eyes before helping, knowing he was being a gentleman, or whatever he called it. You called it putting his back out.

He rejected your help, so you grabbed as many pillows as you could, following him back into the main studio, privately smiling at the dramatic grunts he made trying to move the mattress. He tossed it to the ground with a grunt, shoving it into the corner of the room, before pausing again.

You dropped everything down on to it, toys, lube, pillows and all.

And then both of you waited.

It was so strangely intimate, just the two of you in the room, the strange nature of your relationship weighing heavy after last night’s miscommunication. Suddenly there was nothing you wanted to do less than take your clothes off.

“White sheets?”

“Hm?” you hadn’t processed what Tom said, too wrapped up in your own world, frowning down at the bare mattress.

“I was thinking white sheets.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

He was off, assigned another task, and you almost envied his distraction as you slowly sorted the pillows how you wanted, gathered the toys absentmindedly. Before Tom came back from the props closet you made yourself scarce, catching sight of his slim outline through the doorway. Facing away from you as he rummaged.

In the single bathroom of the studio you cleaned anything that would be going inside of you, avoiding your reflection, trying to shake off the odd nervousness coursing through your veins.

Why? It had been years since you felt this way before a shoot. Before you’d met Tom, even. Sure, shoots could be exciting, exhilarating, intimidating, but this self-consciousness, this self-doubt… it had come from nowhere.

You pressed your forehead to the mirror, closing your eyes, breathing deeply. The tap running sounded like a waterfall, the silicone under your fingers felt alien, the air almost claustrophobic as you wondered what the hell was wrong with you.

Tom was done making the bed when you got back, frowning at his phone until he heard you re-enter the studio space, quick to look up and see if you were happy with his set. You felt hyper-aware of him, of every movement he made, a clean towel and toys cradled in one arm as you took in the space. It was a simple premise, just a clean fitted sheet pillows in a corner, a clear space for you in the middle. You knew it would look good on screen. You knew this was an easy job.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“Do you want to face the camera? Or kind of, not acknowledge it?” Tom asked, speaking again as you forgot to reply, too caught up in your own mind. “Maybe if you ignore it that’s more… voyeuristic?”

“Sounds good,” you responded, kneeling to prepare your space. This was autopilot, your day job. You could do this.

“Right.”

He sounded a little put out by your response, but moved the camera anyway, switching to a knee-height tripod. You stood, stepped back to give him space, and frowning at the sudden headrush. You blinked, catching yourself staring at the flex of his arms as he moved the heavy equipment. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring into space until Tom called your name a second time, crossing into your personal space.

“Are you okay?”

Tom’s voice was so soft you wanted to cry, fingers hovering beside your bicep, his gentle eyes demanding for you to meet them, daring for you to lie while his face is so close to yours.

Somehow, the guilt of his worry made you feel worse.

“No, I’m…I’m being stupid. Sorry, just tired.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“No, I, uh, I slept fine. I’m not sure. Just not really feeling it.”

His face fell, but you knew he wasn’t disappointed in you. He thought he’d done something wrong. Immediately you were talking, doing anything you could to soften his guilt.

“It’s my job, though. I can do it. This is great Tom, I think it’ll be a good shoot.”

“Sweetheart –”

You sighed, eyes falling to the mattress, before forcing a smile.

“Let’s get this over with!”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but you forced yourself to move, pulled your feet from the floor with far more effort than it ought to take. There was some comfort in rummaging through your own bag, that piece of home, something private from the studio. You found the vibrator you’d brought, a pink bullet you used almost exclusively at home, fully charged that morning. Behind you, Tom snorted in amusement.

“Nothing here is ever charged,” you shrugged off his stare, knowing damn well you didn’t have to explain yourself.

You wanted to explain anyway though. Just in case, Tom thought anything he did wasn’t enough. He seemed perfectly fine with the criticism, though you knew he was making a mental note. He always did, then you had something to say.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, you stripped to your underwear, folding your clothes neatly and being careful not to show any self-consciousness in your posture. You’d never been ashamed or embarrassed before now, and you weren’t about to start. Even if it was just you, and a very well, fully dressed Tom. Vibrator clutched in your fingers, you finally sat on the damn mattress.

He was the other side of the camera now, somehow both distant and a few feet away. You found yourself staring at your body in the monitor, just watching. Tom’s voice broke you out of yet another daze, and you wanted to pinch yourself. Why couldn’t you do it today?

“We don’t have to do this today, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay I just… I forget it’s just us sometimes, you know? There’s such a production and so many people and at the end of the day…”

Tom smiled, a relief on his face that told you he had been feeling it too. That this was weird.

“I know what you mean. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Just give me a second to warm up, we need to make something, after all.”

You stretched, not really sure why, moving a little around the nook Tom had created, shuffling pillows and practicing where you wanted to lie back, watching a monitor as Tom played with a soft lighting, twisting and turning to find the most flattering angles you could.

As he shuffled things around, Tom nodded to the spread of toys you’d set out. You’d added your vibrator to the pink line up, perfectly organised on the white towel.

“Do you want those in shot?”

You shrugged.

“Might be hot?”

He nodded silently. You moved the toys in to the frame, trying to blink away the cloud which had settled in your mind. The world felt foggy, your arms like they were moving through treacle, and you knew Tom had noticed.

As he prepared two directional microphones, you tried not to feel claustrophobic. The audio from the microphone he was pointing towards your pussy would be almost grotesque, and you fought not to shuffle further from it as you imagined Tom listening later, headphones in, as he balanced the levels between your moans and the wet sounds of you fucking yourself.

Fuck.

Why was this so different to a regular shoot?

You’d done solo shoots before. With Tom. And half-a-dozen other crew, you reminded yourself.

You caught sight of his curls above the monitor, face serious as he set everything up.

“Speak?”

“Testing, testing,” you spouted off nonsense until he offered you a thumbs up, happy with the audio.

Then there was nothing else to do.

He stood, looming over the equipment. And you looming over you.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, smiling at your frown. “You’re in charge here, I’m just the camera guy.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was trying to put you at ease.

“You’re the director,” you reminded him, knowing how he preened himself under the title.

You were impressed that his eyes had only roamed down your body once as he took in the shoot, glancing at the indulgent layout of toys, double checking the monitor, one headphone in. He had that stance he always adopted when he was directing, and you knew it was his favourite moment in any of this. The moment everything was pinned on him.

It happened so quickly you almost missed the moment he knelt down, blinking in surprise as his face remerged at your level beside the camera.

“Then my direction is: enjoy yourself. Forget I’m here. Let’s show them something real.”

He must have seen your shock, because it made him smile.

“Real?” you questioned, and he nodded firmly.

“I’m serious.”

For a beat, both of you were silent, his eyes meeting yours over the body of the camera.

“If you can,” he offered, “I understand it’s not always…”

You interrupted him with a hand, smiling your understanding of what he was saying, and dismissing it in one motion. The silence dragged on, and you decided to push this forwards. If you were done by lunch, Tom would probably insist on taking you somewhere nice.

“I don’t know if I should use – ” you ghosted a finger across the biggest toy, worrying a bottom lip between your teeth, “Simplicity might be key.”

“Do what you want, darling. What feels good.”

You nodded mutely, and for just a second you saw doubt flicker across his face. This was new territory, and even you weren’t sure if this was a step too far.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. If I’m… actually… it might take a while. Let me know if I’m taking too long.”

“Take as long as you need, darling. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tilting your head at him a little, you realised abruptly just how intimate this was. Moreover, that you wanted it anyway. That you were about to make him watch you cum. Make him hear you, smell you. He couldn’t touch, but he could watch.

And that was enough for you to perform.

Tom gave you a countdown, red lights peppered your field of view, and he was recording. He had taken a seat on the floor behind the camera set up, one headphone in to monitor audio, waiting.

You stayed sat up, back arched a little as your hands began to caress you own body, keeping on eye on the monitor while your face was out of the shot. You rubbed along your thighs, across your stomach, teasing at the lace of your bra and the elastic of your underwear each time you passed them, trailing your fingertips. It didn’t really feel like anything, doing this to yourself, but you knew to tease the camera. Tom would cut out anything too slow.

Your gaze remained firmly on the screen as you began to make your touches firmer, more deliberate, dragging lines into your skin and flirting with the camera. You admired the soft skin of your breasts as you started to shift your bra, enjoying the stiffening of your nipples in the monitor until –

The screen went black, and you immediately glanced at Tom, frowning as you lost the visual of yourself. He met your questioning gaze sternly, eyebrows furrowed, and you remembered his direction.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With nothing left to look at you closed your eyes, feeling the blood rushing to the surface of your skin, the sensitivity of your breasts as your fingers idly danced across them. You shoved your bra down unthinkingly, wanting to feel more, rubbing at the heaviness of your breasts and wincing as you enjoyed the pleasure and pain of pinching at your nipples, teasing them to attention. You glanced your nails across them, feeling it in your core. You didn’t want to wait anymore. Fuck the cameras.

It was hard to let to, to stop the delicious feeling of your fingers on your own breasts, but you forced yourself to free one hand, shoving off the bra, desperate to feel yourself without it. You knew you were grimacing, it wouldn’t be sexy, but you didn’t care. That was Tom’s problem.

You needed to touch yourself.

One hand reached below the waistband of your underwear, seeking out your clit, guided by a familiar ache. It was all you could focus on, your other hand forgotten, cupping your breast, the sensation vague and lost as your fingers found your clit. The sensation overwhelmed you as you shifted the hood, your body beginning to produce wetness. The room was a little cold, the air relieving against the heat of your bare skin, making your nipples peak as you leant back into the nest of pillows behind you.

You felt your stomach tense, a bolt of electricity tensing the muscles up and down your body as you brushed across your clit a little too hard. Your middle finger probed your pussy experimentally, slipping inside of you, quickly joined by a second as you played with the wetness there.

One, two, three pumps of your fingers inside you was enough for you to gasp, your eyes still closed against the bright lights as focused on nothing but feeling. No more fucking around.

You reached for your vibrator, hand knocking against the thick silicone toy lined up beside it, writhing as you pressed it against the fabric covering your clit. You cycled through the settings as fast as you could, still desperate for more stimulation.

More. It was on the highest setting. You wanted more.

Without moving the vibrator you shoved your underwear off, huffing as you kicked them away, not caring where they landed. The tip of the toy nudged against your clit exquisitely, and you froze.

There.

You thought about Tom watching you. The hot blood coursing through your body, the line up of toys just waiting to be shoved inside of you. The sensitivity of you clit as you held it against that perfect point. The air against your dripping, aching pussy. The muscles starting to clench, the rhythm of your body. Building, building, you didn’t fight the feeling.

This was what you wanted.

That warm familiarity of the vibrator on your clit, the runaway train of your thoughts, it was enough to drive you over the edge. You hadn’t realised the keening, groaning noises you were making until you heard them, pleasure leaving your lips as an afterthought.

You felt empty.

Blindly you reached out, sticky fingers finding the shaft of a toy you wanted, a smaller one you could take right now. A dollop of lube in the palm of your hand was all it would take, a few pumps of the toy enough to coat it, the excess lubricant smeared on the sheets. You didn’t care. Not your problem.

Without conscious thought, you were still rubbing yourself, two fingers absently making circles against your clit as you fidgeted to be able to take the dildo. You didn’t bother preparing yourself anymore. You were wet enough, and you wanted the stretch.

Needed it.

Needed to feel full.

You shoved the toy into yourself, gritted teeth and your spare hand grasping at your breast, giving the nipple a sharp pinch to interrupt the overwhelming feeling of that silicone pushing inside of you. Your walls were stretched open, a gasp reaching your ears as you felt a nudge against your cervix.

It wasn’t enough. You felt wild, desperate, as you sloppily pulled the toy from yourself and shoved it back in, clenching down and still needing more.

Your fingers found a larger toy, arousal and lubricant smearing across your body as you discarded the dildo which you had just been fucking yourself with, leaving it somewhere on the mattress, forgotten in favour of the bigger option. It was thick. Maybe, in your right mind, you wouldn’t have considered it. But instead you coated it in lube, squirting the clear liquid on to the tip and rubbing it down the toy, focusing on nothing but the need pulsing through your pelvis.

On the emptiness inside you, begging, pleading to be filled. It hurt, how much you wanted to be stretched out, to feel something pounding into you. You felt animalistic, desperate for anything. The last of your conscious thought was occupied by the need in your clit, the demand for friction, and you just didn’t have enough hands. It was impossible to think. When you finally sank down on the fake cock, leaning back, legs apart, gaze focused on nothing but your own swollen pussy, it was a relief. You gasped, then sighed, pushing another inch of the toy inside you. You felt stretched already, split in half, but you kept going. With each thrust, you took the silicone further inside of you until you felt the dull ache of the toy going too far.

Finally, that emptiness felt sated, and you stayed still, too stuffed to risk moving and too blissed out to care.

But you needed more.

Each bear down made the toy threaten to shift, and you didn’t have the brain power to thrust and pay attention to your aching clit. You moved gingerly, grabbing a pillow to straddle, holding the toy inside you as you hunted for your vibrator.

You couldn’t even lean too far to reach it, you were so full it ached. And it was delicious.

With the smooth plastic finally in your hand you leant back, ready to bring yourself to another orgasm. With a blink, you realised there was a tear tracking its way down your cheek, and you smiled to yourself.

And then you accidentally looked forwards. Your eyes met Tom’s. The camera. The lights. The switched off monitor.

You wanted to cry.

He was watching you directly, with those sharp blue eyes, one finger resting along his jawline, his usual calculating, wide stance replaced with one knee hugged to his chest as he sat on the concrete floor. He was watching you.

You. Stuffed full, straddling a pillow on the bed Tom had fucking made, covered in a mix of lube and your own arousal. That strange feeling from earlier came back full force.

God. He had seen you actually come. Without acting or cheesy lines or clever angles to hide the worst of your O-face. You could pretend to come, tell your male co-stars what a good time you’d had, follow direction, anything. But this was too real. And it was just you and Tom. In the corner of a huge studio, bright lights and cameras and –

Had he called cut? You wouldn’t have heard. Did he realise you’d lost control? That you had forgotten you were supposed to be acting and been so desperate and –

“You’re doing amazing.”

You smiled at him weakly, gasping as the toy inside you nudged your cervix as you fidgeted. You didn’t realise that you were awaiting direction until he spoke.

“Another one?”

His voice was a little throatier than usual, though you supposed he’d been quiet for a while. His eyes kept drifting from your face, and you wondered if he felt as uncomfortable as you did.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes, listening to the increasing pitch of the vibrator as you turned it up to its maximum setting.

The minutes stretched on as your orgasm built, little raises and falls of your hips accompanying that insistent buzz of your favourite vibrator, the toy inside you starting to ache as it stretched you apart. It was impossible to forget that Tom was watching you now. That his piercing gaze was on you. As a matter of professionalism, you tried to avoid looking up. You ignored the camera, fucked your body in the way you knew it would respond to, only half-faking it as you came a second time.

You moaned and groaned and gave the camera an indulgent few seconds of overstimulation, the vibrator pushed against your clit to make you writhe and shake. You pulled yourself off the dildo in a mess of arousal, played with yourself, showing off how stretched out you were.

Fingers swirling in the arousal inside of you, you sighed in relief when Tom called, “cut.”

Dropping the toy, you pulled your legs together, ignoring him for a second as you took deep breaths. Taking stock of your body, the residual pleasure and pain and stickiness. A lot of stickiness.

Tom took pity on you, shifting a softbox so you had a clear path out of the corner you were hemmed into.

“Go and have a shower,” he told you, the most softly-spoken command you’d ever heard.

Nonetheless, you followed orders. On weak legs, you indulged in as long as shower as you dared, cleaning up and then just… waiting. Trying to avoid the real world. When you finally opened the door, wrapped in a robe, you found your clothes folded outside. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but you thanked the universe for him anyway.

When you re-emerged you were fully dressed and feeling a lot more like yourself again. And, actually, quite proud of yourself. Tom’s busyness told you everything had been recorded properly, equipment moved and the mattress bare, leant against the wall.

“All good?” you asked, more to announce your presence than anything. He stopped moving, offering you a gentle smile.

“Perfect! I think it’ll be great. Do you want to go get lunch somewhere? To celebrate?”

Predictable as anything. The thought made your heart swell with fondness for him, his head tilt and excitement, his strange place here.

“I think I’ll just go home,” you tried to smile apologetically, but you could still feel the ache inside you, the dull oversensitivity of your clit against your underwear.

The embarrassment and excitement fighting in the fit of your stomach.

Tom nodded, clear understanding on his face. He held the door for you on the way out.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?” he asked, quietly, like you might run off if he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Your bedroom fell silent as the vibrator stopped, the battery finally flat. You whined in disappointment, desperate for another orgasm. Your fingers replaced it instantly, rubbing, desperately pulling more wetness from the arousal weeping from you, but you were too oversensitive.

Panting, vision blurry, your thighs aching, you blinked away tears. You glanced at the nightstand. Tom hadn’t text you.

When you woke up the next morning your phone was dead. You’d forgotten to charge it last night, and leaving it in your room to charge offered a strangely peaceful morning. You had a few hours before you would be expected at the studio, and no work to do before then.

You indulged in spending time getting ready for the day, making a decent breakfast, doing a few chores you’d been putting off.

Processing what had happened yesterday.

In the clear light of day, you wondered if you ought to be embarrassed for the way you’d completely lost yourself at the shoot. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about it, the more you rationalised at you’d just followed Tom’s direction. Done what he’d asked. It had been intense, for sure, but you’d done what he’d asked. If anything you regretted the moment he’d had to speak, losing your nerve. You hoped he didn’t want pick-up shots today, you weren’t sure your body could take any more.

You thought about the night before, clearing up the scattered clothes and charging the vibrator you’d left strewn beside your bed, more ashamed of the images which had been conjured by your overactive imagination in the late-night privacy of your bedroom. You hated that everything you imagined was involved blue eyes. Distinctive curls. Pulling buttons from smart shirts and kissing along sharp cheekbones. Poor Tom. He didn’t need you overstepping that mark. And yet when you had closed your eyes, imagined you were under those lights again, all you could imagine was Tom. His creative gaze. Listening to the smoothness his voice leant to everything he said as he instructed you even more intimately than usual.

As you switched your phone back on, you forced the thoughts from your mind. They couldn’t follow you to the studio. The two of you had built something good. Something successful. The studio was doing well, you were both saving money away for the future, building your brands. You couldn’t screw that up now by imagining him like that. He trusted you. You trusted each other. Relied on one another.

You wondered if he ever fucked other actresses.

#lord forigve me for i have have rpf x reader #13atoms #fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #this is a weird one #i think 2 more chapters maybe #lmk what you think!

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dykefever · 3 years

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2022 goals !!

hello hello thank you for the tag @aeridi0nis and @theonlywolfpants !! loving the sound of all your goals and can’t wait to see what y’all put out next year :)

I have a few goals and ideas floating around in my mind so here is my (likely incomplete) list:

1. Continue challenging myself with my writing style

If you take a look at my first fic (actually maybe don’t xo!) that I wrote around august this year, my writing style has evolved quite a bit! i think even from beginning to end of that fic you can see the change. but! i’ve been super proud of my writing lately and getting creative with it. I want to continue that and just take myself further with how I write. Also keep working on dialogue. probably my weakest spot but my latest fic here we are, again really made me work at it (emotionally devastating conversations about why your relationship ended will do that, i suppose)

2. Write a fic actually set in the HP universe.

aggressively not canon compliant though. unless…

but self explanatory. i’ve written only muggle au’s, which i adore but i want to write with magic and probably at hogwarts because there’s such a specific tone and atmosphere i desperately want to try convey! also in similar vein some sirius/harry bonding moments ootp era that they desperately deserve (and so do we)

3. Write Australian marauders!

australian marauders makes me want to bite things and i feel it is my duty to write them. it will likely be a beach fic (of course. of course.) andddd remus will be perhaps a hunky lifeguard …. you know… we will see. but i just really want to write this! it’ll be self indulgent but it would be so fun to write them set in a place that i know super well :)

4. Write more Wolfstarbucks

that’s it that’s the goal i love them so much and like they have such a specific little place in my brain their romantic dynamic makes me go. insane. so insane. they’re a bit perfect together OKAY! and you deserve this happiness is probably my fav fic i’ve written!

5. and finally! take part in a fic fest

They always looks so fun and I feel like it would be another way to challenge myself! and every time i’ve looked at various fests this year the prompts are so interesting

(also just a lil non fic goal is to travel europe and move to the uk next year !!!!! fingers crossed!! i DO have my uk passport all ready to go so !!)

okayyy no pressure to complete this and not sure who has been tagged yet so just some of my mutuals i’d be keen to hear from!! @astranix @iwishiwassiriusblack @elder-millennial-trash

#i spilled my coffee while writing this at a cafe #terribly sad #laura says some things #tag challenge #thanks for this i am going to hold myself far too accountable now!!

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howtosingit · 4 years

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2020 Fanfic Retrospective

I was tagged by the truly wonderful @firefighterstrand @reyesstrand and @officerrxyes 💙💙💙

How many stories did you complete?

48 😳

What is your total word count for the year?

152,364 ⁉️⁉️⁉️

What fandoms did you write in this year?

911: Lone Star - I’m a monogamous shipper and in a committed relationship with Tarlos 😅

Did you write more, less, or roughly around what you expected you would?

So much more! Before this year, I had only written 3 other fics for 2 different fandoms. I never, NEVER expected to write so many fics for one pairing in such a short amount of time.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

It really changes depending on what mood I’m in, but I think Come Back, I Need You to Hold Me always sits pretty close to the top. Also, I gotta give love to the Lifeguard AU. And also It’s A Million Things About You because when I dream of being in love, that’s what I see.

I know I was only supposed to pick one, but my fics are my children and I love them all.

Did you take any writing risks this year?

I started my first multi-chapter, which I am still working on. Before I published chapter one, I had NEVER shared something that wasn’t completely written. I am a major procrastinator, and unless I feel like people are really counting on me to update, I lose the motivation to do so. So, that’s been scary and risky and challenging, but I love what I’ve written so far, and I love the ideas that are coming in later chapters.

Do you have any fanfiction goals for 2021?

Finish the multi-chapter, definitely. Write 7 fics for Carlos Reyes Week because he is my boy and I love him and I want to give him all of the attention that he deserves. Write 7 fics for Tarlos Week, if there is another one this year. Also, would love to write 250K+ words this year; I think it’s doable, since I really only wrote for about 7 months of 2020.

What is your most under-appreciated story?

I honestly don’t even know. Just by AO3 numbers, i’ll be there for you, ‘cause you’re there for me too has the least amount of hits and kudos (by a wide margin, too), but it’s also a fairly recent fic so I don’t know how telling that is. I love all of my stories, so I want them all to be equally loved.

Now, I will say the one fic that I do not appreciate enough is I’ll Build My Life Around You - I struggled so much with writing it and I posted it before I actually liked it. It’s the only fic that I’ve posted where I was like “I really don’t like this, but I want to post something for Day 3 of Tarlos Week and this is all I have.” I’ve made my peace with it now, but I should give that fic a little more love, I think.

Biggest fanfiction related disappointment of 2020?

I mean, I still haven’t been able to establish a schedule for writing and posting the multi-chapter, and I’m way behind where I wanted to be on it; but I’m still getting a chapter out every 2-3 weeks, so I don’t feel too guilty. I was also pretty sad that I didn’t do all of Tarlos Week. That’s partly why I’m so determined to do all of Carlos Reyes Week, even if it kills me (also, see above to know more about my love for my boy).

And just as a final, recent thing: I didn’t get to write a fluffy holiday fic for the boys, and I love Christmastime fluff, so that breaks my heart a bit. I am determined to deliver next Christmas, though!

Biggest fanfiction related surprise of 2020?

Honestly? Just that people have read and enjoyed my work. I never in a million years thought I would become a regular fanfic writer, but so many people have shared kudos, comments, asks, and messages telling me how much they love to read what I write, and that kind of positive affirmation is truly the best motivator in the world. I wrote one Tarlos fic in February, read a ton in April, got so inspired that I wrote a second one in May, thought that would be it, and now we’re here. It’s been crazy and wonderful, and writing and reading fic has truly been my salvation through this terrible year.

I’m getting to this a day or two late, so I’m sure everyone has been tagged already, but I invite any writer to look back on their year of amazing work and share their responses! I always say that I’m my own biggest fan (as we all should be), and things like this really give me a moment to appreciate just how much I’ve been able to achieve.

(Actually, let me tag @emisfritish - we might not be in the same fandoms anymore, but I know she’s had a stellar writing year, and I want to hear all about it!)

#about my writing

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vanillahigh00 · 4 years

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Creator Tag Meme: Top 5 of 2020

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I was tagged by: @fairmanor and @designatedgrape

Tagging: @edie4711, @subitodolcediva, @princess-tiger-lily, @theyallcomeframed, @thescholasticskipper *I tried to only tag who I didn't think was already tagged, but anyone can play! The more the merrier!!*

In 2020 I only published five fics so this makes it easy to pick just five!

The Ocean Brought Me To You (M, 39K)

I wrote this one in the midst of a writer’s block. An AU where Patrick is a lifeguard and meets David on the beach. A little bit of fluff and a little bit of angst.

The Purrrrfect Gift (M, 11K)

I wrote this with one with a dear friend. David and Patrick as cat people. This one was so much fun to write.

You Only Do It Once (M, 33K and going)

I’ve been working on this one forever and I had to take a break from it, but I promise it will pick back up and hopefully be complete in 2021. This is the first fic I wrote. Its an AU where Patrick and Rachel move to Schitt’s Creek engaged and Patrick met David ten years ago at a Rose Video training. This is the story of what happens when Patrick moves to Schitt’s Creek and sees David again ten years later.

I’d Do It All For You (M, 34K)

I wrote this one for Reel Fest. My first prompt driven fic. This is the “Cutting Edge” AU with an epilogue coming in 2021.

Christmas Revelations (M, 34K)

I started this one during the holiday season of 2019 and wrapped it up in early 2020. This is a story of Patrick going home and coming out. Patrick was supposed to do this alone till David showed up and surprised him. This story is fluffy, angsty with some smut that was written by another wonderful writer in the fandom.

In the midst of the craziness of 2020, I met so many fantastic people. I can’t wait to connect with more of you in 2021. We have a pretty amazing fandom!

In 2021 my biggest focus will be You Only Do It Once, but I may surprise you and throw in some other fun things. Maybe a few one offs?

#schitts creek fanfiction #david x patrick

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spectralscathath · 4 years

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Skinny Vanilla Latte

Mikaela is the world's nicest customer, and Yuu's heart absolutely Does Not go 'doki doki' whenever he comes into the cafe for his standard order. Anyone who says otherwise is entirely incorrect. (Mikayuu but Coffee Shop AU)

Commissioned Mikayuu oneshot for @fyrecrackeruwu

Ao3 link, ff.net link

“Peppermint mocha, extra whip, for Lacus!” Yuichiro called out, trying to remember his customer service smile even though he knew his eyes said ‘I’ll kill you’ to every person in the café. Narumi just had to go and get a new job, like the traitorous bitch he was. Being a lifeguard wasn’t even a real thing.

Narumi’s absence left the Moon Demon Café down a barista, and because Shinoa and Kimizuki were banned from interacting with the general public, Yuu had been the only one they could shunt from the kitchen into front of house.

Fuck this job. If he didn’t need it so badly he’d have tossed his apron in Guren’s stupid face to get rid of the shitsmug smirk.

“Hi, welcome to the Moon Demon Café,” he turned to the next customer. “What can I-” oh my god. Don’t pause keep talking. “… I get you today?”

Holy SHIT someone call Heaven because an angel had gone missing. Seriously, the customer standing on the other side of the counter was the prettiest guy Yuu had ever seen. Not to be corny on main, but this was the first time Yuu had ever thought ‘eyes like sapphires, hair like spun gold’ had ever felt like actually applicable metaphors for someone.

“A skinny vanilla latte, please?” Pretty Boy said with the utmost politeness, and Yuu remembered that breathing existed and so did brain functions.

“Of course, can I interest you in any of our specials today?” He put on his best grin, writing down the coffee.

“No thank you, just the coffee.” Pretty Boy kept smiling, already having his card ready to pay because clearly this guy was Mr Perfect Customer.

“Sure thing, can I get a name for this order?” He barely held back from tacking a pet name onto the end, but he managed. Someone get him a medal.

“Mikaela. Mika works though, please don’t try spell ‘Mikaela’.” Pretty Boy- Mika’s- smile became slightly glassy, with the wartorn eyes of someone who’d had consistent misspellings of their name throughout their life.

“Mika it is,” Yuu grinned at him and scrawled it down. “I’ll have that ready for you in a jiffy.” Why the fuck did he say ‘jiffy’.

Mikaela snorted, bringing a hand up to cover his smile. “Sure thing.”

Yuu smiled and started up the coffee grinder, his cheer instantly evaporating away when he heard the sound of an empty grinder. Where were the coffee beans kept again? Shinoa better not have moved their location to fuck with him.

“It’ll be just a sec,” he forced a grin at Mika, getting a shrug in return. Customer seemed chill, cool. He reached under the counter to find empty air, instantly ducking down to check. Nothing but coffee residue from the bags. Welp.

“Hey, Kimizuki?” He yelled at the back.

“What?!”

“Where’d the coffee get moved?”

“You think I know?! Figure it out yourself, dumbass! I’m cooking!”

Yuu’s eye twitched and he counted to ten in his head to prevent himself from leaping through the overpass to wring Kimizuki’s neck. “Of course,” he grumbled. “Let me just pull some coffee beans out of my ass, that’s how we run things here.”

There was a soft chuckle and Yuu blanched, realising that shitfuck his sarcastic grumbling might have been a little too audible. He whipped around. “Uh- sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Mika hid his laughter behind his hand again, blue eyes glittering like sapphires. “No no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Yuu relaxed a little bit, kinda starstruck by the mirthful twinkle in those eyes. “I’ll just find you the coffee, give me a moment.” He spun around, hunting through every cabinet he could until he managed to find a dark roast with ‘hi Yuu’ scrawled on it in purple glittery ink. Shinoa and her fucking gel pens.

He started making the coffee properly this time, mentally promising that he would commit first-degree murder and get away with it the minute Shinoa showed her rat face again. He waited for the coffee machine to do the job and wrote Mika’s name on the takeaway cup, pausing before thinking to himself ‘fuck it’ and adding his phone number. He was gonna take the shot, especially since Mr Gorgeous had laughed at his sarcasm.

He finished putting it all together and smiled as he handed it over. “Skinny vanilla latte for Mika.”

“Thank you,” Mika grinned and pulled out a cup sleeve, slipping it onto the cup and completely hiding Yuu’s number. Yuu’s smile cracked. Fuck.

“Uh-” But Mika was already walking away after dropping change in the tip jar.

“Thank you!” He waved goodbye, the door closing behind him with a little jingle.

“You’re… welcome.” Goodbye gorgeous. Guess Yuu’d never see him again.

-------------

It was with great surprise that Yuu did in fact see Mika again, this time over Mitsuba’s shoulder as she did the ordering and customer talking while he just made coffee after endless coffee. Fuck rush hour holy shit.

He tried to catch Mika’s eye in-between frothing up milk and shaking cocoa powder over a cappuccino, green catching and locking with blue for the barest second before Mika smiled widely and gave him a little wave, a fancy-looking camera hanging around his neck. “Hi Yuu. Good luck with the rest of your shift, I hope it calms down a bit.”

“What, this? It’s no problem!” Yuu bragged, before he caught the side of his wrist on the milk spout and bit back a curse. Always with the burns.

“See you next time.” Mika grabbed his coffee, oblivious to Yuu’s plight, and walked out the door, again emptying some coins into the tip jar before he left.

Mitsuba turned to Yuu, blonde twintails bouncing with the movement. “You know that guy? He’s the nicest customer I’ve had yet. I hope he becomes a regular.”

“Yeah.” Yuu nodded. “Me too.”

------------

Mika did, in fact, become a regular. Which was awesome.

Every Wednesday and Friday like clockwork he’d show up, order his skinny vanilla latte to have there, pick a booth, and do stuff on his laptop. It was pretty cool, aside from the fact that Yuu couldn’t write terrible pick-up lines on the latte glasses.

That was Plan A of ‘Operation: get Mika’s number’ thwarted.

Plan B was to write it on the napkins, but then the problem was that Mika didn’t order food. Currently Yuu was on Plan C, which was Plan B but better.

Mika walked in with his laptop bag and his camera-holding thingie, waiting patiently in line until he was at the counter. “Hi Yuu.”

“Hey Mika. The usual?” Yuu gave him a charming grin.

“That’d be great, thank you.” Mika beamed. It was really pretty.

Yuu had to take a second to recover. “Easy, one usual coming up. Do you want to try a muffin to go with it? On the house, between you and me.”

Mika looked like he was considering it and for a moment Yuu’s hopes were rising, rising higher- “Thank you for the offer, but I already ate. Just the coffee, please.” And down those hopes fell, dashed against the rocks and crumpled like wretched Lucifer, cast from Heaven into the pits of hell.

“Sure thing. Give me a shot if you need a refill.”

“Will do.” Mika smiled at him, paid, and pottered off to go take a seat.

Yuu watched him go, noticing that he was wearing thigh-high boots what the fuck that wasn’t fair. That was illegal, that had to be illegal.

“Uh, sir? Sir? Can I order now?” Someone rang the bell and Yuu snapped back to reality, looking at the man in the- what the fuck was that a fucking cat? It looked like this man had lopped off the skull of a white tiger and mounted it on his head what the actual fuck. Yuu really hoped it was fake, he desperately fucking prayed.

Okay, goodbye Mika, hello Crazy Customer of the Day #309.

------------

“Afternoon, Mika, the usual?” Yuu grinned at him, the café a bit quieter than usual. Maybe this time he could get a good conversation in while making Mika’s coffee.

“Yep, and also an English Breakfast tea, no sugars. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all. You meeting a friend here?” He hoped it wasn’t a date. His attempts to try give Mika his number through shitty pick-up lines could not be foiled so easily.

“You could say that.” Mika smiled cheerfully, offering his card. “On debit, please.”

“No prob. He here yet?” Yuu looked around, not spotting any new faces.

“He said he’d be by in a few minutes. I’m surprised there’s not a rush, normally this place is quite busy. I thought getting a table would be harder.” Mika looked quite concerned at that.

Yuu waved it off as he finished putting in the docket. “It’s pre-midterms week. Everyone’s panic-studying, ordering pizza in, all that stuff.”

Mika chuckled. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m on top of my studies then, or else I might have had to miss out on the best coffee on campus.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Yuu shot him a finger gun and a wink, before wondering if he’d overdone it. Luckily, Mika seemed to find it hilarious by how his smile went supernova and his laugh bubbled out of him.

“Definitely not. Thanks again.” Mika placed some coins in the tip jar before he went to the booth he always tried to sit at, pulling out his phone once he sat down.

Yuu watched him go and set to work on making the drinks, wondering if he should try make a food platter. Counterpoint to him trying to woo Mika through good food was the fact that Kimizuki was a snotty bitch who would kill him if he gave out even more free food, crushes be damned.

And yeah, Yuu could totally throw down with Kimizuki, but Mitsuba would tattle about it if there was a fight and he’d probably lose his job.

He’d just have to make it the best damn coffee in existence.

He was halfway through making the tea when a man walked in, and Yuu had to stop and stare for a sec because while yes, he was very fucking gay for Mika, he still had eyes.

It was when the total hunk sat down in front of Mika that Yuu felt his bout of ‘he’s pretty’ turn into entirely rational jealousy. Was Mika dating this guy? It took a special kind of hotness to pull off a braid and dyed bangs, Yuu could admit.

He put on his customer service smile as he carried the drinks over, rampant envy broiling in his veins. He set drinks down, being extra delicate and polite with Mika’s coffee and blanking out the other guy entirely. “here you go, Mika. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks. Crowley, this is Yuu, the barista I mentioned. Yuu, this is my dad, Crowley.”

Yuu practically heard the record scratch sound. Dad?

His next thought was along the lines of ‘oh thank god, Mika’s still possibly available’, and he was starting to realise he may be desperate. “Nice to meet you, Crowley.”

“You too,” Crowley grinned back with a touch of a British accent curling around the words, red eyes twinkling in amusement. “Thanks for the cuppa, luv.”

Yuu nodded before tuning him out again and giving another smile to Mika, going around to clear some other tables and already plotting his next move. Fingerguns and winks were now on the table. Mhuahahahaha.

--------------

“So, Mika, how’s the photography?” Yuu struck up a conversation as he cleared away the latte glass, taking advantage of the restaurant’s quiet to try and kickstart a deep meaningful conversation that he was absolutely going to fill with stupid jokes.

“it’s going well,” Mika smiled, saving the photoshop file on the screen. Clearly he’d lost a file once by accident and saved every program with the vigour of a spartan warrior ever since. “Are you interested in photography?”

“Actually, I’m studying psychology,” Yuu grinned. “Gonna go for a masters if I can once I’m done with this, then eventually you’ll have to address me as Dr Yuichiro.”

Mika’s smile sharpened slightly. “A PhD, huh?”

“Thinking about it.” He shrugged, trying to look humble when he was anything but.

“I think Dr Yuichiro’s got a good ring to it,” Mika smiled slyly, and oh no that wasn’t fair he was not allowed to make it sound so sexy.

“You’re the first. Kimizuki said I shouldn’t be allowed near people,” he grinned.

“And you work the register?” Mika laughed.

“Used to work in the back ‘til Narumi up and ditched us to ‘follow his dreams’,” Yuu told him conspiratorially. “I’m the only one of the kitchen staff who can reliably not scare away customers, so I got shunted here.”

“Maybe I should thank Narumi then, if he got me such a good barista,” Mika smiled. “You’re not scary at all.”

“How dare you, I’m terrifying,” he joked.

Mika scoffed, sapphire eyes sparkling. “As terrifying as my cat.”

Yuu let out a theatrical gasp, balancing his tray on one hand as he clutched his heart. “I think I liked you better when you were a polite customer.”

Mika blinked innocently at him, a challenge curling at the edges of his toothy grin. “Am I not anymore? Shame.”

What a brat. Yuu smirked at him in answer. “Well, I can’t be rude to customers, so I’m legally required to say no.”

“Only legally? Not morally?” Mika rested his chin in his hands as he leaned forward on the table, his photoshop file left entirely forgotten.

“Morally I can say whatever the hell I want as long as it’s not said in front of consumers.” Yuu winked.

“I guess you’re treading on thin ice right now, huh?” Mika bit his lip in affected concern, a prominent pearly canine catching for a moment, and Yuu’s mind went fucking blank. “Best be careful then. I wouldn’t want my favourite barista to go jobless. Right, Yuu-chan?~”

“R-right.” Yuu stuttered for a moment as he tried and failed to come up with literally any kind of flirty remark in reply, getting zero zilch zip from his flatscreening brain. Head empty no thoughts. “I’ll get you a refill, then?”

Mika’s smile screamed ‘cat who caught the canary’. “Don’t keep me waiting, Yuu-chan.”

He nodded and scampered back behind the counter, taking a minute to settle his racing heart. He heard a tapping sound and looked at the overpass into the kitchen, Kimizuki rapping a spatula on the counter.

“You’re pathetic.” Kimizuki’s scornful gaze was only amplified by the glasses he wore.

Yuu flipped him off. Fuck Kimizuki.

--------------

Yuu steeled his nerve as Mika walked in, refusing to let his crush pull one over on him again. Shinoa hadn’t let up since Kimizuki had told her, and Yuu was getting real tired of every whipcrack hand motion she was sending his way.

Mika smiled very innocently as he walked up to the counter, blue eyes bright and oh-so-breathtaking. “Hello, Yuu-chan.”

Little bastard.

“Good to see you too, Mika,” he grinned, resting his elbows on the counter. “Here for your usual, or are you thinking of switching it up?”

“Hm,” Mika tilted his head like he was considering it. “Now that you mention it, maybe I should try something out. How about something a little sweeter this time, Yuu-chan?”

“I think you’re sweet enough already,” Yuu flirted cheesily, watching Mika’s eyes widen a touch. That’s right, he could flirt too. All that ‘Yuu-chan’ business had no power over him now. “But sure, hit me up with what you want to try.”

Mika’s eyes sparkled delightfully, a challenge in his smile. “What’s your poison, then?”

Yuu raised a brow. “Well, I’m a black coffee kind of guy-”

“Because you grind so fine?” Mika interrupted him, like he didn’t just say the sexy pick up line for Yuu.

He gave Mika a Look, Mika merely batting his eyes back at him. “Double shot, nothing extra.” Maybe a bit of hazelnut when he really needed a pick-me-up. “That’s my coffee.”

“A ‘keep me up til two AM’ kind of guy, I like that.” Mika snickered.

“Stop it,” Yuu cautioned. Only he was allowed to use terrible puns like that.

“Make me,” Mika downright dared him, leaning over the counter a little more.

Yuu grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye, a spark of victory gleaming in his emerald gaze. “Keep it up and we’ll see where it gets you, gorgeous.”

Mika’s pupils dilated.

Yuu smirked at him and let go, picking up the docket sheet. “So, coffee order? You’re holding up the line, babe.”

Mika beamed, a smile like spun sunshine. “You know what, I think I’ll go for my usual after all. But maybe next time I’ll be a bit more daring.”

“Sure you will.” Yuu winked at him. “Later, beautiful.”

Mika laughed as he went to his favourite booth, Yuu internally high-fiving himself as he went. That went excellently.

Okay. Next time he’d ask him out. Next time for sure.

-------------

Today was the day. It was absolutely the day. Today for sure.

He handed Mika his coffee, got ready to say ‘I love you give me your number’, and chickened out when he realised that was absolutely not the way to ask and would instead plant him straight in ‘ultra creep’ territory.

Next week. Next week for sure.

------------

Yuu looked up from wiping down the counter, groaning as Shinoa came in. “Aren’t you meant to be on your day off?”

“Well, yes,” Shinoa smiled far too innocently, and Yuu’s hackles went up with suspicion. “But my dearest friend has been telling me ALL about his new favourite café, so I had to come by and see it.”

“Shinoa, you work here.” Yuu glared at her.

“He doesn’t know that,” she smirked, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I never say names, my darling Yuu.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that.”

“I don’t care.” She swanned up to the counter, propping herself up on her hands and tiptoes. Yuu scowled as she smeared her hands all over the area he’d literally just wiped clean. “Now gimme free coffee.”

“Fuck off. Employee discount only and even then I’m debating making you pay full price.”

“You’re so mean,” she pouted. “And when I’m buying for my friend as well. I think you’d like him, as much as a big meanie like you can like anyone.”

“I like people, I’m not Kimizuki,” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s your damn friend?”

“Oh, you might know him.” Her evil grin came back full-force, making her look downright demented. “Why don’t we see if you can guess from his order?”

“Do you know how many customers we have?” Yuu snapped a tea towel at her hands. “Hands off the counter, you’re probably infested with something.”

“Boo you.” She huffed and raised her hands, twiddling her fingers as she did. “Anyway, I want a multi-mega mocha milkshake with extra sprinkles and four shots of coffee. Oh! And whipped cream. Lots of it.”

“You’re going to die from a caffeine overdose and I will film it.” He wiped the counter down again out of spite.

“Maybe so, but at least I’ll die not hopelessly pining for some boy who takes, oh, what was it now?” She tapped her chin, looking deep in thought. He didn’t buy it for a second, especially not when she turned a vicious smile onto him. “Oh, right, skinny vanilla latte. Large.”

He wondered what the hell kind of expression he made that had her cackling like the wicked witch she was. “You gotta be joking.”

“Nope, and remember, on the cup for that one, my friend’s name is Mik-ae-la~” She sounded out the name, taking too much joy in it. “And make it fast, sweetcheeks, he’s going to be here soon.”

“I hate you with every blood cell in my body.”

“Make sure to put one of your cute little pick-up lines on that now,” she winked. “I’ve been reading them whenever I take out the trash. You’re so desperate it’s cute. Now shoo shoo, make me coffee, coffee man.” She flicked a hand at him, revelling in the power that a customer had. Shit like this was why she was banned from interacting with the general public at work.

“Sure thing. I’ll bring your drinks out to you,” he forced out through a smile, teeth grinding together as he gritted them. His eye may have twitched. He wasn’t sure.

She twirled around and skipped to her seat, spinning her favourite little trinket in her hand and making the green and orange lights on it flare up like she was at a rave. He tried to stare a hole through the back of her head before he set about making her the drinks she ordered.

Mika. Mika was friends with Shinoa. It was a testament to how in love he was with that guy that knowing Mika willingly hung out with Shinoa did not become an immediate turn off. He liked her too, sure, for whatever was left of his sanity’s sake, but she was still a pain.

He heard the little bell above the door jingle and glanced up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Mika waving at him. “Hey Yuu,” Mika grinned, sounding way too proud of himself.

“Hey Mika,” he smiled back, unable to stop himself from getting all soppy at the edges. “Skinny vanilla?”

“You bet,” he winked at Yuu and sauntered off to sit with Shinoa, the two of them immediately starting up some sort of gossipy conversation judging by the hand motions and expressions.

He looked down at the drinks he was plating up, took a deep breath, and furiously scribbled a puntastic pick-up line and his number on the napkin under Mika’s coffee. This was it. He was going to do it.

“I am not a coward,” he muttered to himself, picking up the tray and carrying it over. “That was a multi-mega mocha milkshake with quadruple shots, extra whip, and sprinkles, and a large skinny vanilla latte?”

“She’s having the deathshake.” Mika pointed at Shinoa, who fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“No problem.” Yuu set the drinks down, trying to ignore how he could hear his heartbeat thundering in his eardrums like the bass beat of a good metal concert, keeping on a smile that was at this point reserved only for Mika. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Mika reached for a packet of sugar and dumped it into his coffee, picking up his spoon before his hand froze, sapphire eyes tracing over the wickerscratch handwriting on the napkin.

Are you an espresso? Because you’re a shot to my heart. Call me?

Mika blinked up at him, Yuu frozen in place with the sort of calm that only came from blasting beyond panic and landing in the cool grey apathy of total nerve-ridden shutdown.

Shinoa snorted, the sound snapping Yuu out of his quiet reverie. “Uh- I mean, unless you want to kinda- not to be a creep or anything, but we could-” he paused when Mika put a finger over his lips.

Mika’s smile was soft as silk. “I like movies?”

“Movies. Right. I’m off at eight?” No way no way no way-

“Eight sounds great,” Mika’s grin became a bit toothier. “I’ll meet you out front?”

“It’s a date?” Yuu smiled hopefully.

Mika grabbed the front of his apron and kissed his cheek. “You bet it is.”

“Great!” He gave him a thumbs up, practically floating back towards the counter with a sunshine smile all his own.

He heard Kimizuki scoff from the overpass at him. “What coffee shop fanfiction bullshit is this?”

Yuu ignored him, too happy to even care. Best workshift ever.

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #mikaela hyakuya #yuichiro hyakuya #mikayuu #yuumika #yuumikayuu #fyrecrackeruwu #my writings #commission

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timetogoslumming · 4 years

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@fleetwoodwormy Alright! I’m not going to do all of Mountain Ridge because there’s a lot, but let’s do a random chapter. I’m going to take a closer look at Chapter 5: War.

This chapter became one of the most popular ones I wrote, but a lot of it was never supposed to happen. I had a rough outline of what would happen, but all I really had planned was general first day of camp stuff and Davey’s talk with Race where Davey mentioned being gay. I was aiming for around 2000 words per chapter and it was still too short, so I ended up improvising The Raccoon Scene.

It did have some purpose, though. I wanted to build on the relationship between Jack, Crutchie, and Race as a trio and introduce a bit of chaos, but I also wanted to show that while they’re good at their jobs, they’re also kind of in over their heads.

I’m going to do a close read of the chapter with more detail under the cut.

I had a doc going while I was writing to keep track of staff positions and cabins, but I also kept track of a few important campers. A few didn’t end up making the story, but all three of these were in there. Plus, another camper that shows up this chapter, Teddy.

This little moment is small, but it’s kind of huge for Davey in a couple of ways. On one hand, there’s his blossoming friendship with Jack. Davey is a pretty shy person, but he felt comfortable enough with Jack to invite him along. I believe this was the first time that Davey made the first move in their relationship (in a manner of speaking.)

On the other hand, there’s Albert and Elmer waiting for him. We see in the exposition that Davey is not accustomed to having a lot of friends, but here are these two guys that he barely knows waiting for him so they could walk together. Albert and Elmer were already friends, so they definitely could’ve gone on without him, but they chose to wait for Davey, and that’s a big deal.

I had to do lice checks every week during check-in when I worked at camp. You put on rubber gloves and use Q-tips to comb through every kid’s hair. If you find anything, they don’t get to come to camp. The whole process is deeply unpleasant.

This scene is actually part of what inspired me to write this whole fic. The initial idea wasn’t to write a summer camp AU– it was to write an AU where all of the Brooklyn boys were lifeguards. That turned into me rewriting Brooklyn’s Here with lifeguarding lyrics, which was quickly scrapped. It turned into all of this, though.

Throughout the first half of Mountain Ridge, we see Race and Crutchie (especially Race) warning Jack against starting a relationship with Davey. We don’t get much more information about that, except that Jack had a previous camp romance that ended badly. I’m getting into the nitty gritty of that relationship in the Mountain Ridge prequel. Let’s just say, Race had his reasons.

Throughout this chapter, Davey is called David and Davey in the narration at varying points. It’s not random! When the scene is from Davey’s point of view, he’s referred to as “David” in the narration, because that’s how he sees himself. In the very beginning, he was always referred to as David, no matter whose perspective it was. When they met Sarah and she called him Davey, the nickname caught on and from then on, all scenes not from his perspective referred to him as “Davey” in the narration. There is an exception to this: as Spot and Davey grew closer, Spot had his own names for him, so in Return to Mountain Ridge, he’s usually referred to as “David” or “Dave” if the scene was from Spot’s perspective.

Mountain Ridge is written from a third person limited point of view. The story is being told be a narrator, rather than a character, but it focuses on one character at a time. You could imagine a floating video camera, but it only follows around one person at a time and can only see things around that person. For a more common example: Harry Potter is written in third person limited. You follow Harry and get his thoughts, but that’s it.

I feel like the fandom has changed in the past few years but when I was first writing this, Davey was often portrayed in fics as either deeply closeted or in denial when it comes to his sexuality. While that’s a very real situation and there’s nothing wrong with that, I wanted to write a different type of Davey. This Davey has always been confident and supported in his sexuality. He grew up in a home where he was celebrated and never felt like he needed to be shy or ashamed of it, and I really enjoyed writing that.

Crutchie, bless him, he’s doing his best. Pro-tip: Potato stamps are pretty fun.

I wish I were an artist, because I just find this image hilarious and it’ll forever be trapped in my head.

This scene is goofy, and it’s chaotic, but I think it also shows that number one, Jack has no idea what he’s doing. And number two, that although their methods may be ridiculous, these boys are pretty good at thinking on their feet. Quick thinking comes into play periodically in their work, particularly for Jack. He doesn’t think he’s very smart, but that boy does know how to improvise.

This is just a bit where we get to see them laughing, making jokes, and enjoying themselves, with a quick reminder that their still in out of their depths. The situation is actually sort of dangerous, but it’s also so ridiculous that they can’t help but laugh. Plus, doing something as crazy as trapping a raccoon in the art hut with your best friends? You can’t be upset about that.

So, yeah. That was a close read/ director’s commentary of chapter 5. I actually really enjoyed this. If yall would be interested in more like this, let me know.

#newsies #camp mountain ridge #fleetwoodwormy

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gg-astrology · 5 years

Text

🌊 bts fic recs pt. II 🌊

hello if ure here for astro pls bare with me i rarely do this promise ;; 💕❤️ since its been a while, I kinda wanted to do another fic rec and show u all these cool fics ive been reading that impacted me in some ways 💕❤️

If you’re new, hello! 💕❤️ I usually rec fics that gives me a lot of cool atmospheric feels, interesting take on the trope/genres. So to start, here are two fics that are Amazing and Kinda Scary But Is So Good (and Kinda Changed My Life/Stayed With Me Still)

Ps. The top part of this list is pretty heavy -- as in, heavy topics/subjects, read the tags and warnings on the fic as well so you don’t go in unassuming ;;. If you’re not into the first 5 i recommend on here --feel free to scroll down and just see what you like! 💕❤️ I promise I also have like, lighter stuff in here too! 💕❤️ Also: most of it’s very taegi and yoonkook heavy i know skjnsk i didn’t realize how much of them i actually read/accumulated over the years but here we go! 💕❤️

It Happened Quiet by hobimo - not sure if i rec’ed this before. But this is by far one of the most soul-impacting, life-changing fic I’ve ever read. I don’t think I’ve ever read something so true to the horror genre? But at the same time, there’s such a beautiful plot and time-travel and mystery/lore behind it. The characters are so interesting, I know it says taegi, vhope, and taegihope but it’s a lot less about the romantic side of things and I’d definitely recommend this for the *wriggle hands* entire fic. It’s amazing. Please give it a read (maybe when it’s not dark) 💕❤️

Bodies of Water by themarmalade - yoonmin, siren/horror theme and this one kept me on my toes as well 💕❤️ it’s such an interesting story and take on the fantasy/horror genre, I definitely recommend this one just as much as I do to the one above. Also, themarmalade writes alot of amazing fics-- there’s a masseur/cuddle-therapist minjoon one and also Scowl at the Moon is an amazing angsty namkook one 💕❤️AND a taejoon t’hat one weird city where the dj/narrator talks about carlos who’s so handsome’ au.. something ville??forgot the name rn... I recommend their entire body of work tbh ;; 💕❤️

Singularity by PrettyBoysTaegi (GetOutOFMyTreeNovice) - taegi, supernatural, coming back to life. DEFINITELY do not take the major character death lightly - BUT before you look away, it’s SUCH a good fic. I can’t recommend this enough, it kinda kick started by overall love and fascination for horror-themed fic and aus. There’s something to appreciate in feeling something so fully and so much, like that feeling when you’re overwhelmed with love and you can’t hold it in. It’s in your eyes, nose, pores, mouth. You’re overflowing with it and it’s just rolling out of you. Anyways I love this so much 💕❤️

in all dishonesty by fruitily - taegi, i foam and go full feral thinking about this fic sometimes. It’s so fun, so entertaining. So fucking great, I don’t. I can’t even explain. It’s light, fun, something to break you from all my heavy fic recs so far. 💕❤️

Satie by paperhearts - taegi, this one is an old one but it’s definitely an Experience. war fic? kinda? reincarnation? it’s amazing n I can’t even spoil it. Please check it out 💕❤️

Murmuration by fringecity (indiachick) - I know I rec’ed this before, but the author just said they finished the last chapter and it’s been SUCH a long ride I want to rec it again for those who wants a good, long, read. One of the best fic on ao3 honestly? So well researched, so detailed. Plot driven and I just appreciate how the different element/tropes all fits together on here. It’s a mystery/thriller fic-- and it’s amazing. Yoonmintae but this aint about them this is about what’s happening. They’re in this together, and the characters themselves are so good. If you’re looking for a fic that develops and keeps you on your toes-- this is the one 💕❤️ Action, mystery, thriller, gang, magic? science? amazing.

The Things Worth Going to War For by softlyblue - sope, I know I recommended this before but this is BY FAR the most fleshed out, understandable and digestible fantasty/adventure fic. It’s so RICH with lore and culture and PEOPLE. Even the ocs feels authentic and aren’t intrusive at all. It’s on lock so you’ll need an account, but I recommend getting an account JUST to read this fic to be honest. It’s THAT good. Also: mind the warnings! 💕❤️ OH and the fighting scenes and anticipation for war is SO good. One of the BEST fic honestly.

And I Fall by spudcity - not sure if I rec’ed this before, taegi, constantine au, I don’t actually know what constantine au is. But the setting, the environment, the social setting AND also just the plot development and story is so captivating. It’s something else to think about like-- you coming in with nothing in mind and being able to understand the world and all of it’s expansive element just because of this fic. It says a lot about how good the author is, I hope you like this fic alot too💕❤️

golden haze by CaptainButts - vmin, alien au. Amazing, one of the best vmin I’ve ever read? 💕❤️ Captainbutt is amazingly good at characterization as well, so you’ll definitely see more fic recs of their stories from me for sure. Plus -- this fic definitely spiralled me into fulfilling my full aquarius mercury nature and getting into that good alien contemplation. Amazing.

like real people do by notyoongs - yoonkook, space au and also robotic/AI au 💕❤️ This is such a nice, slow-burn, fleshed out fic. Especially in terms of characters, and also inclusion of the rest of bangtan/their subtle involvement in making the main pairing go through their development. Anyways, one of the best AI au I’ve ever read 💕❤️ It’s not angsty as well, so!! 💕❤️

everyone brave is forgiven by notyoongs - yoonkook, spiderman slash avengers au. words can’t describe how much i love this fic. Frustration at the character, dread at what’s about to happen, heart-breaking sadness at the resolution. BUT the entire ride is such a beautiful journey full of sunset-washed colours. This is definitely not of the fic you’ll have to read and it reminds you that the present is the most important, to enjoy the ride. To enjoy every emotions that you’ve faced and is given, it really makes you feel so full and grateful. I love this fic 💕❤️

Inside a sinking feeling by CaptainButts - jinkook, amazing art heist vs police au 💕❤️ Not only is the plot so good, the twists and turns, the dialogue is amazing -- plus, it has alot of actions and good old romance. Even if you don’t normally read this pairing, it’s an amazing fic I definitely recommend. They also wrote another jinkook au that’s equally amazing-- its a lifeguard/childhood crush au, but this one -- the art heist one-- is amazing. 💕❤️

From Apogee to Perigee by Namib - taegi, holiday town au. As in, there’s christmas town and there’s halloween towns. Inclusion of all members, and we trek tae’s journey in getting gifts for yoongi. It IS light and fluffy, but this story is so interesting because there’s a lot of interactions that adds onto the story. Lots of flashbacks, interactions with each member of bts adds a layer to the story in a different way. We see more and more of the relationship through tae’s interaction with others, It’s so beautiful seeing variety of emotions and depth and you have to pick up on different things here. Because taehyung as a character and narrator is oblivious or still nervous about yoongi’s affection for him. So. This is such a cool fic and interesting trope and it’s amazing I recommend it lots

You’re My Home by heyyyjude - taegi, this is a sequel but this one hits so hard. A lot of people -- me included -- likes to think of ourselves as very giving and very demonstrative of that. That we definitely love something more, as we should, socially. But when confronted with how we actually treat/act long term and what our subconscious actions say. Sometimes we have to re-evaluate ourselves. This fic really digs deep and makes itself a home in my life because of this idea of -- re-evaluating yourself and how you love someone, the idea of prioritizing and learning how to take care of others-- knowing you’re allowed to have passions and hobbies you live and breath for outside of that. Relationships really are like that sometimes, where you do need to step back and think about things like this and how you act sometimes. Definitely recommend this lots. 💕❤️

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark by GinForInk - chaptered, namkook, a really cool take on abo dynamics and relationships plus its not as angsty as it sounds it’s actually really nice! thought provoking if you put yourself in namjoon’s shoes and think about privileges n postering. Something to think about, but overall just a really nice fic 💕❤️

Chasing the Sun by almostsophie1 - oneshot, taegi, long-fic 💕❤️there’s a lot of soulmate connection tropes out there but this one actually teleports you physically to where your soulmate is which is really interesting bc you actually. do know your soulmate + have that security a lil (in knowing its not a dream) and it’s a sweet, overall, very nice fic that doesn’t really play with my emotions 💕❤️

together we’ll count our stars by czar (cmajorchords) - namgi, radio station au. Lots of good, good feels. This one has a lot of feelings. It came at a time where I was going through something that really resonated with it, but even without my personal experience -- there’s something so sleepless and timeless about it. I recommend this for the soothing quality it has, the feeling of going through something hard and coming out on the otherside alright again 💕❤️

Kiss me hard before you go by 77735 - sope, roommates, misunderstanding but so so so shock full of love 💕❤️ so soft, reading this was such a pleasure, a very good plot AND very good characters, lots of pining 💕❤️ Miscommunication, all the good stuff 💕❤️ But so so much love in between the lines, love it 💕❤️

You love a stone by roebling - taegi, medusa but spin it on it’s head as in there’s a happy ending 💕❤️ love this take on it so much, actually roebling writes alot of really cool recreates of fairytales/myths like dragons and stuff -- makes me think of the holy grail but like, nicer. Definitely digestible, such a cool fic i can’t rec enough 💕❤️💕❤️ light and good 💕❤️

In each place (oh you remain) by misspamela - minjoon, hades/persephone, consent has always been a thing with hades/persephone adaptations. So this is another interesting fic on that 💕❤️ Short n sweet, but amazing 💕❤️

And my heart is set on you (You better shape up) by Bandit4Life - taegi, theatre au, enemies to lovers, lots of pick up lines 💕❤️ Grease au? But make it gay. The fic I didn’t know I needed until I read it and then realized its a part of my life now. So good 💕❤️

mind if i slytherin? by notyoongs - yoonkook, hogwart teachers au. Love the involvement of student and just-- the social dynamic here. Also love a happy ending. This is definitely an ‘open for surprise’ kinda deal but like-- a nice surprise. A present. C: 💕❤️

Open the Floodgates by soft_bro_fun - namjin, so good, explicit but it’s such a cool take on self-esteem thing and just. perspective, y know? how you can see yourself a certain way but through third person or in another’s eyes there’s a different narrative going on. Anyways this is good fic 💕❤️

let love get the best of us by czar (cmajorchords) - taegi, so good. 💕❤️ not as angsty as it seems, very reassuring and like--it’s just so nice. Especially when you think about -- like, the fear of being in love, it’s very valid to feel this way. I think a lot of people often choose to say no as a self-preservation. It’s something to explore 💕❤️

sucker by notyoongs - yoonkook, werewolf/supernatural au. Roommates? just very nice development and trope and just overall how it plays out. 💕❤️ A lil bit of miscommunication but not much. It’s overall a really really enjoyable fic 💕❤️

How much to give and how much to take by Aguacates - I love a lot of fic by this author so you’ll see more recs about them ;; ksjnjnsk namkook, arranged marriage au 💕❤️ please give it a read, it’s SUCH a good fic. Amazing writing and characters, I love how they have like-- a trope/plot we see around alot but they really just dig into it and made it WORK so well 💕❤️

Moonshine lovers by bedroomdemos - taegi, taehyung as vampire, truth serum 💕❤️ honestly such a great and interesting fic! first of all i love the premise, second i love how it all played out and just -- I want more, this is a fic that makes me love it so much I keep going back to read it bc it hits different 💕❤️

Pull me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae - namseok, with yoonjinkook and vmin, cruise/life-guard au and a lot of rich frat boys 💕❤️ Along the same lines as fruitily’s taegi -- this is also a very summer-y, flirty, light hearted but v v nice fic 💕❤️ Love how the audience can see joon being flustered even tho we’re in hoseok’s narrative, but like-- it’s so nice to just, see things from hobi’s side bc we’re usually on joon’s side when he’s interacting with hobi (in namseok fics) 💕❤️ So yeah!! 💕❤️ A great read!! 💕❤️

Slytherin Your Heart by softyoongles - taegi, hogwarts au. One of the thing that really hits me is the inclusion of other characters.How in the middle of that. It elevates the main pairing without isolating them from the rest of the cast/crew. This one hits 💕❤️

the planets bend between us by sharpa - taegi, space explorers, kinda established relationship BUT i’d like to point you towards the AMAZING narrative style and how when we do time-skip/replay into the past it actually makes so much sense AND adds onto the dynamic between these two characters 💕❤️ I love it so much, it’s a fic that leaves my stomach feeling full like I’ve just had a very good meal. 💕❤️

a hold on me by CaptainButts - junghope, single-father au, amazing to see namjoon as hoseok’s kid and also junghope’s past relationship together. Embarrassing dads, also side vmin and yoonjin. Love it

Paint by Minverse - vmin, amazing fic that explores gender/sexuality, relationships and the lgbtqa+ spaces/subjects so well? Literally one of the most well-done fic I’ve ever read that incorporates these areas PLUS all of it’s complexity. It doesn’t lose an INCH of complexity. And like, it’s NOT SAD it’s actually pretty light (?) bc we’re seeing it from -- tae’s side most of the time which is great. 💕❤️ Anyways I can’t rec this enough 💕❤️💕❤️ It’s so good!! 💕❤️

yellow red AND blue purple by baekyun (baruna) - namkook+namminkook royalty au AND taegi royalty au. Basically taehyung’s a bodyguard to yoonji. Kook gets married off to namjoon but he’s like-- namjoon’s fan and supporter. Jimin’s jungkook bodyguard and “some” -- it’s a complicated thing. But it’s an interesting take on world building, history and politics as well. Particularly with the taegi one, and then further in the namkook one. Anyways it’s refreshing to read, it’s on lock so you’ll have to register for ao3 to have an acc ;; 💕❤️ Having an acc is so good tho bc u can also bookmark stuff and its all in one place 💕❤️

Some classics I’d like to rec!!! 💕❤️ These ones below are fics that are probably multi-chaptered, or I just really really enjoyed. 💕❤️

If i wanted to (i do) by kaythebest - vmin, marriage au. The goodest slow burn, the best story about developing relationships and just. Ugh. I can’t recommend this one enough, it’s just so fucking good. Kept me on my toes for ages, definitely one of the best vmin i’ve read ;u; 💕❤️

Fake Sugar by minverse - jinkook, sugar daddy au but NOT what you expected. The background of these characters are so good. This is actually one of the more light-hearted one from the author, but it’s still so amazing and so good. Especially since the dynamic between jinkook has a lot of domestic stuff instead of sexual things we were expecting, and a lot of corporate/shady fun in the social atmosphere they’re in. 💕❤️

tea house special by baekhyun (baruna) - yoonkook, avatar the last air bender au. Sugar daddy as well? Kinda? Fraternizing with the enemies? Kinda? But this one’s a classic. Amazing, I love it so much. One of the best bts avatar crossover. There’s also a sequel that focuses on Jimin as an earth fighter too. Definitely check it out! 💕❤️

an inhabited world by misspamela - namseok, this one’s so good. Jump started my love for namseok fic. There’s explicit stuff as well, but I just. I love this fic 💕❤️

unfinished by fruitily - yoonkook, ghost au. Love this, love the supernatural. One of the best yoonkook ghost fic. I recommend this one like, please press the link and see for yourself!! 💕❤️

Just Skins by syubology - taegi, i dont even know what it is but it’s amazing. Fwb au? The author said they want to do re-writes of Just Skins so!! skjsnkjsn let’s be patient. In the meantime, there’s war-fics from the author that they’re updating/currently working on? 💕❤️

you are my bravest everything by 777335 - vmin, long-distance. I love this one so much, it’s SUCH a good read if you haven’t read it yet. 💕❤️ Relationships are hard enough already, but when you teeter the lines between wanting to be a supportive friend but also are you interested in Them? -- it’s something that’s so *clench fist* gets me in the feels wow. 💕❤️

Will you B Minor? by ohdizzy - taegi prequel to Blow me like your French Horn jikook fic (its a series) both are incredibly good. amazing. funny! i recommend reading both. You get a hefty amount of taegi in bmlyfh too.The Jikook fic is so nice💕❤️

Black&Gold by marchdahlia - yoonkook, camboy au. But guess what? The dynamic and power structure is different from their cam persona vs irl. This is such an interesting take. I love this so much tbh 💕❤️

Baby girl, I can’t breath by hoars - MY FAVOURITE LESBIANS!! 💕❤️taegi, but also other pairs. This is a CLASSIC and no matter if you prefer mlm or wlw or just, idk. Anything. The plot and characters surpasses expectations and boundaries. It’s so enjoyable to read. Note that it’s very old, so some of the issues are things in the earlier days of bangtan fandom.

too cute to hurt by mimiforce - taegi, fem. This is the sweetest, softest fic ever you don’t even have to like f/f it’s just. really nice. Short and light read. Sneaky kisses.

love does(n’t) hurt by artaemin - yoonkook, one of the most beautiful fic i’ve ever read? I recommend other fics by artaemin as well. But this one -- wow. For those who wants to experience emotions for the first time, and also it’s actually like. A happy ending!!! 💕❤️

large, extra cheese, extra sauce (extra you) by vminism - taegi, pizza deliver au. This pre-dates bon voyage 2, so basically the start of the taegi resurgence and rise of taegi. Amazing fic, I love it so much. Alot of cute, soft, cheesy stuff 💕❤️

disappearing act done poorly by kyungchul - taegi, movie theater au. Past vhope, but this is very very nice and so amazing to read bc of the plot, the moments, the trope. I recommend you read something that remind you of bridget jones diary era once in your life. It’s amazing

describe your ideal type here by fruitilys - yoonkook, this is once again, a classic and an amazing yoonkook fic. Matchmaker tae. Incredibly entertaining writing. I have nothing else I would wish for 💕❤️

True or False, Taehyung? by clumsy_taegi - taegi, this one is explicit but it stuck with me because of the characterization of Taehyung. I love this characterization of him so much because? it’s not like, predictable at all. As in, if you put other characters in this situation -- you might have someone bursting into tears, but he didn’t. And it’s? that’s something amazing. And makes me think about just-- like, how emotional every other fic I’ve read has been which is like!! great too. But it made me pause and think.

p.s. i love you by notyoongs - yoonkook, the ‘pretend relationship’ trope but-- this is so fucking heartaching and romantic. I can’t recommend this enough, it’s so good 💕❤️

of monsters and me by notyoongs - yoonkook and later, a brief rapline x kook monsterfucker fic. This is a series, it’s all explicit. Basically, there’s a lot of sex. BUT the idea of monster under your bed and relationships between kook and yoongi is so cool? Because realistically, there’s a lot to consider and also just-- the dynamic in the relationship. The power play. Like,, this is a demon we’re talking about. Anyways it’s so cool.

here comes the sun by fruitilys - yoonkook, i don’t even know how to describe it. But its amazing, this is one of my favourite fic of theirs -- and in the bts ao3 site tbh. It’s so good. I love it. 💕❤️

#personal #fic recs #recs #bts fic rec #bts #taegi #vmin #yoonkook #sope #jinkook #namjin #junghope #namkook #namseok

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pizzarollpatrol · 6 years

Text

Fic Rec List #2 10/28/18

If any of the links don’t work, please let me know!. Just wanted to say thank you to all the authors on this list. You and all the effort you put into your fics are very much appreciated 💖

Kiss of Life by @sincerelymlg

Summary: Bucky and the reader go on a mission that quickly takes a turn for the worst.

Flustered by @notimetoblog

Summary: It’s easy to see when Bucky is flustered. His mannerisms are beyond adorable but they might be hiding something more. --- I’m such a hoe for soft!bucky. I loved this fic, its so sweet and endearing.

Quick Stories by @notimetoblog

Summary: Waking up early with Bucky is not always so bad. Bucky x reader.

Marry Me by @buckymorelikefuckmebarnes

Summary: Wedding day. (thats a shitty summary im so sorry) --- You thought this fics was shit but HA you are so wrong because it broke me :) Bucky x Reader

Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky

Summary: For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand thy they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they love other morals when they knew none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live. God of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader. Ongoing series --- Wow. Where do I even begin? I absolutely love this series, its so different from others that I’ve read. I loved every chapter.

A Supernatural Marvel by @angelkurenai

Summary: Imagine being transported in the Supernatural universe, with no memory of your life, where you become a hunter and fall in love with Dean. Only for a very important person from your past to come looking for you and change it all. Dean Winchester x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Reader. Ongoing series. --- This is one of my current favorite series!! You really know how to keep us on our toes, I love it!!

Take Me Higher by @buckychrist

Summary: Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle? Bucky x Reader. --- If a fic has a cuddly bucky, sign me the fuck up. I loved this, its so sweet.

Educating Bucky by @buckfics

Virgin 1930′s Bucky x Reader. Smut. --- Holy fuck. This has got to be my absolute favorite smut I’ve literally ever read. I get so happy when it pops up on my dash again. There isn't a damn thing I dont love about this fic. Its so sweet and believable and I just cant stop myself from reading it.

Sincerely, Me by @buckitybarnes

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a quiet fellow when it comes to socializing with you. After one mishap, however, he finds a way to communicate his feelings without speaking so much. You’ve soon come to learn not every relationship has to be verbal to be important. Bucky x Reader. Completed series.

A Week in Boston by @blacktithe7

Summary: It was your first vacation in years. Just one week all by yourself in the big city of Boston. No rules. No expectations. Just a list of places to go and things you wanted to see. That all changed the you run into a certain blue-eyed Boston boy who turned your world upside down. Is it really possible to fall in love with someone in just one week? Or is that kind of love just a fairytale? Chris Evens x Reader. Ongoing series.

Stubborn Love by @barnesrogersvstheworld

Prompt: You cant live your life based on “what-ifs”. Steve Roders x Reader. --- This was so intense, I loved every word.

Date Night by @jaamesbbarnes

Summary: Heavily pregnant but very tired, you still insist to go out for your usual date night with your boyfriend. Chris Beck x Reader. --- This is one of the sweetest fics I ever read. I’ve never heard of “stardust” being used as a pet name and I swear my heart exploded when I read it.

Body Guard by @oliverwxod

Summary: Tony Stark is a very rich man and with that came a lot of enemies. After a tragic event Tony decides himself and the people most important to him, especially his daughter, are in danger. He hires personal body guards. Bucky Barnes is assigned to Y/n Stark, the most troublesome, reckless Stark that there is. Bucky x Reader. Body guard!AU. Ongoing series.--- Absolutely loved this series! So many twists and turns!

40 Days by @abaddonwithyall

Summary: Dean and you are already in an established relationship when he tempts you to give up orgasms for Lent. The only catch? Anyone and Everyone is open to trying to get you off. Let the games begin. Dean x Reader. Eventual Sam x reader, Castiel x reader, Gabriel x reader, Crowley x reader, Charlie x reader, Bela x reader, John x reader, Gadreel x reader, Lucifer x reader, Rowena x reader, Benny x reader, Jo x reader etc. Smut. Uncompleted series. (its from 2016, only the last two parts are missing but its all good) --- This is pure filth and its amazing.

Starved by @theonewiththefanfics

Summary: The Reader is a touchy-feely kind of a person and when she joins the Avengers nothing changes. Apart from the fact that Bucky Barnes is so touch starved, he craves for the soft feel of her skin against his and is over the moon when she treats him the same way she treats everybody else. Yet now day she simply stops, and he doesn't know why. Bucky x reader. Smut

You Aren't My Father by @winchesters-favorite-girl

Summary: When Sam shuts the gates of hell, Dean promised that he would take care of Sam’s little girl. However, things didn't go the way anybody suspected. After Dean settles into his apple pie life, he drifts away from his niece, who decided to take her future into her own hands. Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader. Angst. Completed series. --- Holy crap. This is one of the best fics I've read, I read this series a long, long time ago and I’m still thinking about it.

My Turn by @sis-tafics

Summary: You and Dean are blowing off some steam. Dean x reader. Smut.

Afraid of the Flame by @thosekidswhohuntmonsters

Summary: Bucky learns from a surprising friend that you shouldn't live a life of things unsaid. Bucky x reader.

It’s My Favorite Movie by @notnaturalanahi

Summary: Classice movie challenge. Movie prompt: “Are you not entertained?” Gladiator - 2000. Sam Winchester x reader. Smut

The Pumpkin Carver by @softlybarnes

Summary: Bucky and Y/N prepare for Halloween, when Bucky realizes something. Bucky x reader. --- I love The Florist and The Beekeeper so much, I was so happy to see you wrote another part. I loved it.

Watching by @mrsjohnsmith

Summary: Dean likes to watch. Sam x reader x Voyeur!Dean. Smut

Stepping Sideways by @siren-kitten-his

Summary: She steps sideways between worlds just watching those that live there...until Jefferson catches her eye. Jefferson (OUAT) x Fae!OC Mae. Smut. --- This is the first ever Jefferson fic I’ve read and i loved it!!

Ride by @wayward-and-worn

Summary: Sam and Y/N are in an established relationship. The milestones that had to cross to get this far go without saying. She's never been on top. Sam Winchester x Plus!Reader. Smut

All that Glitters by @moonbeambucky

Summary: Natasha found a sneaky way to get you to reveal your secret relationship. Bucky x reader. Smut. --- I LOVED this, its so clever and hilarious.

The Unimaginable by @moonbeambucky

Summary: As Bucky’s wife and mother of his child, you always worried for him when he was on a mission. This last mission will change your life forever. Bucky x reader. Angst. --- When i read the summary, I thought I had an idea about what was going to happen but it was so much worse. There were so many tears.

My Love, by @emilyevanston

Summary: Steve writes you a letter every time he goes on a mission. They usually arrive after he gets back. Steve x reader.

The Fiancé by @mycapt-ohcapt

Summary: Life takes an unexpected twist when you and Steve Rogers have to pretend to be engaged to cover up your little white lie. Steve x reader. Fake dating!AU. Completed mini series.

I Can’t Swim by @revengingbarnes

Summary: The reader pretends to drown to grab the attention of the hot lifeguard who looks after the beach. Lies don’t last long though, and eventually it backfires. Lifeguard!Bucky x reader. --- I LOVED this, its so cute and sweet. I had this goofy ass smile on my face the whole time I read it.

Sound by @bucky-barfs

Summary: You and Steve have been pining after each other for a while. Both to afraid to make a more, that is until you're stuck in a limo in heavy traffic. Steve x reader. Smut.

Crowded Places by @papi-chulo-bucky

Summary: You have a hard time warming up to Bucky, who constantly rejects you. But one day after his Winter Soldier mode is triggered, it seems there’s more to his brooding and stand off demeanor than he let’s on. Bucky x Reader/Winter Soldier x reader. --- I loved this!!! I’ve never read one like this and it turned out so sweet and weirdly endearing.

Memories and Music by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: When you follow the sound of beautiful music, you find Bucky Barnes in front of the piano, and wonder if your heart might break just a little. Bucky x reader.

Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Summary: It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he work in front of the world. Bucky x reader. Smut. Completed mini series. --- The first chapter was so intense and such a difference compared to chapel three, which I absolutely loved. It was so sweet and relieving to see their relationship like that after reading the first two chapters. I loved it.

Trepidation by @cumonbucky

Summary: Everything your world was right until Bucky’s ex girlfriend came along. Bucky x reader. Completed mini series. --- This was so good, I just had to add it to the list so we can all share a mutual annoyance at how stupid Bucky was in this fic. Like is he really that clueless or is he just that stupid??? Homegirl should of had a smack down with Dot but either way I absolutely loved this fic!

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Lifegaurd Duty{Lance x Reader}{2/2}

Words: 8k

Summary: The cute lifeguard never failed to catch your eye whenever you visited the pool. He was always there, smiling and looking like he was having the time of his life. Honestly, you were perfectly fine with him ignoring you, but what happens whenever he finally notices you?

Genre: fluff - elements of angst?? - lifeguard!au

Warning: mentions of death and grief

Notes: part 1 - masterlist

---

“You look lovely.”

Those were the first words out of Lance's mouth whenever you opened the door to him twenty minutes later – both of you had ended up being late, but you weren't complaining. After the ten minute mark had passed, you had only just dried your hair and was in no fit state to go and greet the man you had been crushing on for nearly two months.

You blushed, looking down at the outfit you had managed to pull together in your haste; you wore a striped shirt that was half-tucked into a pair of light blue skinny jeans, matched with a pair of grey boots. Lance wore a grey shirt underneath a blue jacket, with a pair of basketball shorts.

The two of you set off walking towards the coffee shop. You were slightly wary about where you stepped, not wanting to walk too close to him in fear of making him uncomfortable, not wanting to walk too far from him in fear of making it seem like you didn't want to be there – gosh, having a crush was difficult. Everything you did whenever Lance was in your presence felt wrong, as if you should regret it for some unknown reason.

“My dad was talking to me about your dad the other day, you know,” Lance said.

You looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? They know each other?”

“I don't know. My dad thinks he knows everyone just because he knows their names, so I don't know how close they actually are.” You chuckled, and Lance grinned as if he had made some massive accomplishment. “But he was telling me that your dad is back at work now. Busy, too, apparently.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Very busy. He's trying to catch up on all the work he missed whilst he was away, so he's doing overtime shifts and stuff like that. I don't think he's had a day off in a good month and a half.”

Lance hollowed out his cheeks, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “Crazy. He must be exhausted.”

“Yeah. But he's strong, as well.”

“It seems like all three of you are.” Lance nudged your arm. You looked at him through the corner of your eye, caught sight of his small smile that made you flush despite yourself. You swallowed thickly, raised your head and pulled your shoulders back.

“So, Lance McClain, you invited me out here so we could learn more about each other. I think it's about time you start spilling some secrets.”

Lance raised a brow, his grin only widening at your sudden change of demeanour. “Secrets? What did you expect me to tell you?”

“I don't know. Anything. Tell me anything.”

“I'm not that interesting, you know. I wanted to learn more about you.” “I'm not that interesting, either,” you said. “But it's not fair just having me talk away about my life. You have to tell me something about yourself, as well.”

“Okay, fine. I will. What do you want to know?”

You pondered on that question for longer than you should have. For months, you had been forming questions in your mind, curious as anything to know every little detail about the man beside you; how he always managed to keep up that cheery aura of his, how he knew of Penelope, where he lived, what school he went to, who he was friends with.

But in that moment, you could only say one word in response to such a question; “Anything.”

Lance's smile wavered as he thought about what to tell you. You watched him closely, watched as he shrugged and looked down at the ground in embarrassment; he clearly thought he should have plenty to say, was embarrassed that his life maybe wasn't as cool as he had once hoped it would have been.

“I come from a fairly big family, to start off,” he said after a moment. “I'm the middle child, but I was never left out, you know? I have nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles who all live in the same neighbourhood as me – I live on West Wing.”

“Oh, the fancy part of town. What made you want to work over here, then?”

Lance chuckled. “West Wing isn't all that fancy whenever you've lived there your entire life. The bad people start to unearth after a while, which was why I wanted to get away from them, if just for a few hours a day.” He shrugged. “Besides, I like East Wing. It's a bit rough around the edges, but it's different, and the people here . . . They just kind of stick together, you know? They're like one massive family, and I just find that appealing.”

He wasn't wrong. Although you had always taken your close bond with the people from your neighbourhood as nothing more than a friendship that had formed over time, Lance wasn't lying when he said you were all like a family. Even the newcomers were welcomed with open arms most of the time, unless they gave the residents a reason not to.

“I guess you could call me a family man,” Lance chuckled.

“You're good with kids, aren't you?” you said. “I saw you with Penelope and her friends the other day, and you were a natural. Penelope was having the time of her life.”

Lance shrugged, a slight blush creeping along his cheeks. “I guess so. I grew up with little brothers and sisters, and then my niece and nephews came around and I looked after them as well. I've just always had little kids to look after, I guess. Plus, Penelope's cool. I like hanging with her.”

“She likes hanging out with you.”

“I like hanging out with you, as well.”

You looked over at him, trying to dismiss the way your breath caught in your chest, the way your heart beat thundered behind your ribcage. He was still looking down at the floor, his slightly damp hair hanging limp over his forehead in a most attractive way. You had the sudden urge to run your fingers through it, push it away from his forehead so you could get a full view of his face.

Instead, you stuffed your hands in your pockets.

“You know, I'm not much,” you replied, quietly. You weren't sure why. It just felt necessary to tell him such a thing, a slight warning that, if he expected you to be some crazy friend to hang out with, he had another thing coming.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Me. I'm not . . . I'm not anything special.” You chuckled nervously, tugging on the collar of your striped button-up. “I'm actually quite an anxious person.”

Lance was quiet for a moment. “So am I, so that's good.”

Your head snapped up, eyebrow raised in question. “You? How are you an anxious person?”

Lance shrugged. “It's not that obvious because I've kind of trained myself to hide that part of me, but I do get nervous, Y/N. I was nervous on my way up to your house. I was nervous about asking you out in the first place.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came free. Lance shot a glance in your direction, chuckled at the shocked expression taking over your face. You knew it was rude; you had made an assumption about him, assumed he was this confident man all the time whenever you should have known full well that wasn't possible – everybody got nervous. Everybody had fears and things they didn't enjoy doing, but it just seemed so out of the ordinary for Lance to show such a side to him.

“Yeah, a shock,” he chuckled. “Asking out a pretty girl will make anyone nervous, though.”

You flushed, snapping your mouth closed and looking back down at the floor abruptly. “Shut up.”

Lance nudged you with his elbow as the two of you walked into the coffee shop at long last. The walk should have felt longer, but it didn't. It felt as if it had only lasted a couple of seconds, and you suddenly wanted to escape the confines of the place and head back out into the open air, just to continue on the conversation the two of you had been having so easily.

You both collected your chosen beverages, with Lance attempting to persuade you to get a coffee one last time; you had said no, grabbed your hot chocolate, and was taking teasing sips of it as you and Lance made your way over to a table on the far side of the shop. You were thankful for his choice of seating – it was far away from everybody else. You had only been inside of the small cafe for a few minutes, and already you could feel the eyes of pity from passers-by burning into your skull.

You didn't want any of it. You just wanted to enjoy your day for once.

“Tell me something, Y/N,” Lance said almost as soon as the two of you had sat down. “What job do you wanna do in the future?”

An odd question, but you found yourself pondering it for a lot longer than particularly necessary. You had only ever had one dream as a child, and that was to become a writer. Lately, with your lack of motivation and the zero words you had to your name, it felt as if that dream was never bound to become a reality.

“A writer,” you replied nonetheless. “An author. Writing stuff.”

Lance raised a brow, curling his lips around his straw. His speech was slurred due to the action. “An author, hm? What kind of stuff do you like to write?”

“All sorts.”

“Well yeah, but like, be specific.”

“Fiction, mostly.”

Lance leaned back in his seat, clasping his warm drink in his hands as he looked at you sceptically. You knew you were being vague, but telling people about your writing was not your forte. You never knew what to say about it, never felt entirely comfortable telling people you wrote anything at all. It always led to the exact same question of Can I read it?

“Fiction,” he repeated. “Once again, a very broad statement.”

You shrugged. “It's nothing interesting, I can assure you. Besides, I haven't written anything in months.”

“I thought I saw you with your laptop over at the pool that day,” he said. “Were you just playing Sims or something?”

You giggled. “No, I wasn't. I was actually planning on writing that day, but I got a little distracted.” You shot him a faux accusatory look that he smirked at, shrugging his shoulders loosely as if to say well, I can't help it!

“I think an author is a very good job to aim for,” he said at last. “Very . . . Academic of you.”

You raised a brow. “Thanks. And what about you? Have you strived to be a lifeguard your whole life?”

Lance scoffed, taking a long sip of his coffee before slamming the cup down as if in exasperation. “God no. I didn't even think about becoming a lifeguard until I realised I needed a summer job and that was the only one I could find that was away from West Wing. I really want to be a pilot, but it's a lot more difficult than you think.”

“A pilot? Can you fly a plane?”

“I dabble,” he replied. “Obviously I don't have access to a jet every day, so I'm a little rusty, but I know a thing or two, and if it came down to it, I could probably save a couple hundred lives if our holiday jet was going down.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly. “Of course. The hero we didn't know we needed.”

“It's true!” he exclaimed, and he shocked you by lurching forward in his excitement. His fingers gripped a hold of your own, pulling your hand closer to him. You froze under his touch, unsure of how to respond to such a thing, unsure of what to say or whether you should comment on it at all – he was touching you. His fingers were burning into your flesh. You simply stared at them as they lay on the table between you.

Lance was still laughing, one hand messing idly with your fingers whilst the other twirled the straw around in the froth at the top of his coffee.

You swallowed thickly, hoping and praying the sweat coating your palms now wasn't obvious.

“I wanna take you up in a plane one day,” he said. “You and Penelope can come with me and I'll take you on a tour of West Wing. Show you all of the graffiti that people think don't exist because we have big houses.”

You scowled. “Heights aren't exactly my thing.”

He waved his free hand dismissively, as if your fear of heights meant nothing when talking about flying. “Don't worry about heights. I told you already – I could save a couple hundred people if it came down to it. I can take care of two people just as well.”

And you laughed, even though the idea of seeing Lance again sent your stomach into a flurry of butterflies, even though you could already feel yourself enjoying your time with him more than you thought possible. You had known him for a little over two months, had only properly spoken to him a handful of times, and yet you wanted nothing more than to sit beside him for the rest of the day just to hear him drawl on and on about everything and nothing.

---

Summer ended all too fast for your liking.

School had started up again, meaning your time spent with Lance had been forced to the end of your list of priorities. Going into your second year of college left no room to ponder over boys, though actually forgetting about him was much more difficult than you had once believed.

The two of you had spent your final weeks of summer all but glued at the hip. Lance would appear at your house every day, take you out for hot chocolate (though he still tried to get you to try his coffee every now and then) and the two of you would walk around the neighbourhood, talking about anything that came to mind. You had pushed past the stage of asking each other random, trivial questions, and conversation was flowing much more naturally than before.

You could officially call Lance McClain a friend. It was a pleasant feeling.

The first week of school flew in. You and Allura busied yourselves with the usual beginning-of-term jobs that all sixth formers had to do, and it was safe to say you were both utterly exhausted by the time the weekend finally rolled around.

Saturday brought good weather. Despite it being September, summer officially over, the sun was still beating down upon East Wing, and you were still trapped in a tank top and shorts, barely able to stomach the idea of wearing anything heavier.

The warm weather also meant that the pool was, once again, immensely crowded whenever you, Allura and Penelope pulled up outside of it on the first Saturday of September.

“Please don't get any diseases from the pool,” Allura said to Penelope as your little sister hopped out of the car and rushed towards the pool. “Don't slip!”

“I won't!” Penelope called back.

Allura sighed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head like a concerned mother. “Surely it should be you giving her those warnings and not me.”

You looked up from your phone, shrugged casually. “If she hurts herself, it's not my fault.”

Allura scoffed as the two of you made your way over to a table in the cafe. The table was facing the pool, meaning you got a pretty decent view of Penelope and her friends diving into the deep end, squealing and holding hands as they went under. You watched them resurface before turning back to Allura.

“It's weird not seeing Lance here,” you said, unsure as to why you thought that was a good conversation starter.

Allura didn't seem to mind. “He has college, does he not?”

“I think so,” you replied. “I don't know. It's just strange. I'm so used to seeing him in the lifeguard tower that it just seems a little off to not have him there.”

“You'd honestly think you two were married or something,” Allura scoffed. “The way you talk about him-”

“The way she talks about who?”

Your eyes snapped up, immediately widened upon seeing Lance standing over Allura's chair with a smoothie in his hand. Your heart thundered in your chest, your cheeks flaring a bright red colour; Allura smirked, stood up and said, “I think I'm gonna go get myself a drink. Here, Lance. Take my seat. I don't mind.”

Lance raised a brow as Allura sent you a sly wink, stood up and walked away from the table towards the bar. You couldn't help but notice that she didn't actually line up to order any beverages, but instead sat down beside a woman and started casually talking away.

Lance took her seat, grinned over at you. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

You smiled warily. “Yep. It's warm, so I thought I'd come down and cool off.”

“You're not even in the pool. You're hardly gonna cool off sitting in the sun like this.”

You looked up, indicating the umbrella hovering over your head. Lance followed your gaze, rolled his eyes before he thrust his drink in your direction.

“Gotta stay hydrated,” he said.

You chuckled and took the drink he offered, taking hesitant sips before passing it back. The conversation didn't take long to spark after that, with Lance informing you that he had come down for a dip in the pool, had seen you three walking in and had immediately gotten curious as to why you were there in the first place; you didn't want to mention the fact that you had been coming here almost every day in the summer, though the reason behind such a thing was purely to see Lance.

It happened whenever the two of you were speaking.

The scream sounded out above the bustle of the busy crowd, piercing your eyes with its familiarity. You had heard that scream only a few times before, and it never meant anything good. No. The last time you had heard it, you had burst through the door of your mothers room to see your mother lying dead in bed with Penelope by her side.

You were up on your feet before you could even comprehend what was happening.

“Penelope!” you cried out, because she wasn't in sight. The only thing you could see was a patch of blood on the edge of the pool, the water flying everywhere as your little sister struggled to break to the surface.

Her friends were screaming. You were screaming. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were already throwing off your shoes by the time Lance had stood up and thrown himself into the pool.

You watched on in horror, hands gripping the railing. Lance grabbed a hold of the tiny limp body. You very nearly buckled at the sight of the blood drenching Penelope's forehead, at the way her head lolled onto Lance's shoulder, the way her arms flopped over his own as he hauled her to the edge of the pool and lay her down against the tiles.

You sprinted over, no longer caring about courtesy. You shoved people aside, ignoring the soaked tiles that could very well have been a hazard in that moment.

You dropped to your knees, grabbed a hold of Penelope's hand as Lance tapped her face multiple times.

“Is she breathing?” you asked. “Lance, is she breathing?”

“She's breathing,” Lance replied, before he ducked his head down and started CPR. You wanted to throw up. Every nerve in your body was buzzing with an unfamiliar feeling of panic; you had seen your mothers dead body, had been there whenever your mother got diagnosed with the illnesses that had eventually taken her out. You had felt queasy because of panic in the past, but this was on a different level. This was an entirely different ball game all together.

You followed Lance's breathing, even though you didn't need to. Part of you wondered whether it would help or not, whether you were somehow guiding Penelope back to consciousness by following Lance's lead.

And then Penelope's chest heaved, and for a second, you were scared it had caved in. You squeezed her hand harder, just as water spurted out of her mouth, soaking Lance's bare chest. She threw herself onto her side, coughing and choking up the remainder of the water that had crowded in her lungs only moments before.

You cried out, tugging her up into your arms and nuzzling your head into the crook of her neck. “Oh god, Penelope, you idiot! You absolute idiot! How did you manage that?”

“My head hurts,” she groaned against your collar bone.

You pulled away then, nodding frantically. “Right. Your head. We need – We need an ambulance. I'll call an ambulance.”

You made to stand up, but Lance's hand tightened around your wrist and pulled you back down. Tears were pouring down your face, and you weren't even sure how you had managed to stand up in the first place with how weak you currently felt.

You looked over at Lance. He gave you a sad smile, shook his head before he was standing up and tugging his own phone out of his shorts pocket. “I'll call them. You stay here and try and control the bleeding.”

You nodded thankfully. Lance walked off then, phone pressed to his ear.

----

“What happened?” your father asked.

He looked slightly worn out, you noticed. You both were. Taking a single step inside of the hospital room had immediately drained every piece of energy from your body, because you remembered these rooms so well. You remembered curling up in a chair in the corner whilst your mother got prodded with needles, remembered sobbing into the pillow whenever even more bad news was delivered, remembered choking down the disgusting hospital sandwiches they had provided for you because you refused to leave your mothers side.

But now you were back. You were leaned against the wall on the far side of the room, your dad sitting on a chair at Penelope's bed side. His hands hung loosely between his legs, and his head was ducked down, his hair falling in his face.

“I don't know,” you replied quietly. “I heard her scream, and whenever I looked over, she was already under the water.”

“And that Lance boy saved her?”

You swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

Your dad sighed and ran his hands down his face. He was much paler than usual. Whenever you had called him up and told him of what happened, he had hung up before you even had a chance to tell him that Penelope was okay, that she was awake and breathing, but was suffering from a mild concussion that would see her staying in the hospital overnight.

“I don't want you going to that pool for a bit, okay?” your dad said. “Give it some time to settle or else you'll put me into an early grave.”

“Don't say things like that,” you said.

“Sorry.” He turned to look at you then, giving you a small smile. His attempts at soothing your nerves. “You did a good thing bringing her here. Most people your age would have just panicked until an adult took over.”

“Yeah, well, make no mistake – I most definitely was panicking. It was Lance who called the ambulance.”

Your dad raised a brow. “That Lance boy sure has done a lot for us today. He's outside, isn't he?”

You nodded in response. That was a fact you had been trying to avoid for some time now, the fact that he was waiting outside for the final verdict on your sisters condition.

“Remind me to shake his hand whenever I get my head on straight,” your dad continued. “You should go out there and keep him company for a little bit.” “You sure you'll be okay on your own?”

Your dad nodded, slowly turned back in his seat and took Penelope's hand in his own. Your little sister stirred beneath the covers, clapping her lips together as she slept peacefully; she was still alive, which was a relief. Though the injuries hadn't been that bad, you had immediately thought the worst.

You stood up and left your father on his own. It was dark, nurses giving you small, professional smiles as they walked past you, patients wearing paper pyjamas wandering around the halls with walking sticks as aid.

You walked directly into the waiting area, stopped in the doorway whenever you saw Lance curled up on a chair in the corner. His knees were tugged up into his chest, his face pressed against them as he slept soundly – it reminded you of yourself all them years ago whenever you had been in the exact same position, curled up and waiting for results that could be good or bad.

“Lance,” you called out to him.

He shifted immediately, legs clanging to the floor as he shot upright. You raised a brow at him as he turned to look at you, relief washing over his tired and puffy features as soon as he saw you standing there.

“Is she okay?” he asked, scrambling out of his seat and walking towards you with his hands outstretched.

“She's fine,” you assured. “Thanks to you, at least.”

Lance flushed. He placed his hands on your elbows once he reached you, gently dragged his fingers down your arm until he was grabbing at your hands and tugging them together as if in prayer. “I was so worried I'd been too late. CPR isn't my strong point.”

“You did incredible,” you said. “Thank you. For everything. From both me and my dad.”

“It was nothing,” he replied humbly. “As long as Penelope's okay, that's all that matters.”

You nodded along, trying to fight the urge to cry that had suddenly washed over you. You were tired. The days events had worn you out to the point where you were fairly certain your knees were going to give out at any given moment.

You swayed a little on the spot. Lance's eyes shot open even wider before he was tugging you into him, wrapping one arm around your shoulders whilst the other kept a grip on your hand.

“Hey, hey, hey. Stay with me, L/N. Do you need a nurse?”

You shook your head dumbly. “I'm fine. I just – I think I need some fresh air.” Lance led you outside without question, keeping one arm wrapped around your shoulders to make sure you didn't topple over. Once upon a time, you may have swooned at the feel of his arm around you, but you were much too tired to concentrate on such a thing right now.

Lance pressed you against the wall outside and stood protectively over you.

“Take deep breaths, okay? Clear your head a little bit,” he advised. “Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I'm a lifeguard.”

He was trying to make you smile. You looked up at him through heavy lidded eyes, trying desperately to stop the dizzy spell from completely flooring you. It was wave after wave, nausea caused by the exhaustion and stress chasing away any reasonable thought in that moment.

Lance's smile fell away once he caught sight of your slightly dishevelled face. His grip tightened on your arms, pushing you a little harder into the wall as a way to keep you upright.

“Okay, I'm serious now,” he said. “Keep breathing. You look like you're about to pass out.”

You swallowed thickly, closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall. It was all coming down on you now. You didn't know where it was coming from, what had triggered it, but every little thing that you had been pushing to the side was suddenly crashing down upon you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

A tear fell from your eye, traced down the bridge of your nose before sinking into the concrete at your feet. Though your eyes were closed, you could feel Lance's shock reverberating through your body, could feel his hands tightening on your arms and could hear the sound of him taking a sharp breath.

“You're crying,” he said. “Y/N, you're crying. What's wrong? What did the doctors say whenever you were in there?”

You refused to open your eyes. Part of you felt like ripping yourself away from Lance right now, whilst the other part of you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his middle and bury your head in the crook of his neck.

“Please look at me,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

You did so. He was inches away from your face, observing each and every twitching muscle with a worried expression glossing his face. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying desperately to fight off the fresh wave of tears that was threatening to explode right now.

But it was no use.

Not whenever Lance tutted, swung his arms around your shoulders and tugged you into him without you even having to ask. Your head crashed against his chest, your own arms instinctively winding around his torso as you huddled into his warmth, chased the comfort you felt like you so desperately needed right now.

Because it had happened again. As dramatic as you knew it was, it had happened again. Your little sister could have very nearly died today whilst under your care. If it wasn't for the grace of god and the fact that Lance had known what to do, she could have drowned.

Another person you couldn't save added to the list.

“It was too close,” you sobbed into Lance's chest, even though he had no idea what you were talking about. “What if you hadn't had been there? What could I have possibly done? She would have died!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lance cooed, running his fingers through your hair. “Come on, now. She's okay and that's all that matters.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, tightening your grip on his waist as if he was the only thing keeping you anchored right now. In a way, that's what it felt like. If you let go of Lance right now, everything would fall apart and crumble, and you would be left with the aftermath once again.

“You're just startled,” Lance whispered. You felt his lips on the top of your head, moving slowly with every word. “It's all gonna be okay. She's gonna wake up tomorrow and they're gonna discharge her, and you're not even gonna think back to what happened today.”

“Unlikely,” you grunted.

Lance pulled away, but his arms were still on your shoulders. You could feel his fingers slightly nipping at your shoulder blades when he held you at arms length, looking into your face with the most serious expression you had ever seen him wear.

“Okay, maybe you won't forget about it completely,” he said. “But you're one of the strongest people I've ever met, Y/N, which means you won't let it take over. Will you?”

Your lower lip trembled. Lance caught the slight movement, brought his thumb to your mouth and gently ran it over your lips. You closed your eyes at the feeling, the soft touch that sent sparks running through your system at a hundred miles per hour.

“Will you?” he repeated, quieter this time.

You nodded slowly. Lance's fingers fell away from your mouth, drifted past your shoulders until he was grabbing a hold of your waist and pulling you into him again. You reached up and hugged him back, because that was what you truly needed right now; you needed his warmth, the comfort of somebody else. You didn't want pity, didn't want to be reminded of the things you couldn't change – you just wanted to be comforted, and Lance was offering that with his whole heart in this moment.

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours, tangled in each other's embrace with Lance's lips pressed against the side of your head and your face buried in the crook of his neck. Even after the tears had stopped falling, you stayed locked in each others company, refusing to move. Because moving away would mean the moment was over, and you weren't sure you would be able to hold yourself together if Lance wasn't there to keep the pieces locked in place.

---

The crick in your neck was enough to wake you up.

It must have been hours later, though you weren't entirely sure. You were positive that the moon had been in the sky whenever you had originally fallen asleep, though as your eyes peeled open now, they were greeted quite obtrusively by the glowing sun shining through the hospital windows.

You grumbled to yourself, stretching your neck that little bit to try and make the pain go away. It was only at this movement did the lump beneath you shift, startling you enough to have you flinching away from the chair and landing in a tired heap of exhausted limbs on the ground.

You looked at the chair you had just bolted from, eyes wide whenever you saw Lance groaning, stretching his arms high above his head. Had you two been curled up on the same chair? Had you two fallen asleep together?

Your eyes widened against your will; you knew looking shocked was only going to embarrass you. From what you could remember of the previous night, you would already have enough to be embarrassed about. You remembered hugging Lance, clinging to him like some kind of support as tears streamed down your face as you cried about nothing at all.

He hadn't minded. That was another thing you remembered, though you remembered it pleasantly. The way his arms had curled around your hips, the way he had hugged you into his chest, the way he didn't seem to mind the fact that you were having a full-on breakdown in his arms.

Now, you watched as he ran a large hand through his brown hair, his eyes slowly opening to meet your own.

“Ah, good. You made my arm go numb by laying on it.”

You flushed. “I'm sorry. I don't even – I don't even remember how-”

“You fell asleep against the wall outside whenever you were crying,” he explained, and the flush only grew worse. “So I carried you in here, sat you on my lap. I thought your dad would come out to get you, but I ended up falling asleep before he made an appearance.” He shrugged as if it meant nothing, looking down at his arm that had been wrapped around you only moments before. “You're a good pillow, though.”

You hollowed out your cheeks, running your hands through your bed head. “Your parents are probably worried sick about you right now.”

Lance shrugged, standing up and stretching once again. You tried to ignore the flash of skin that appeared as his shirt lifted up; you would not be one of them girls who lost their heads over the showing of a tiny bit of flesh.

“I called them and said I was helping out some friends. They won't mind if I don't come home for a few more hours; I want to help you get Penelope back home safely, at least.”

“Lance, you don't have to do that. What you did back at the pool was enough.”

“It's not for anybody's sake but my own,” he said, chuckling nervously. “I don't think I'll be able to sleep right unless I know she's gotten home safely.”

You opened your mouth to speak, though you had no words planned. You could have quite simply stood there and stared at him in shock, his kindness and his selflessness never failing to take you by surprise, no matter how many times he showed it to you.

You tried to reply, but the doors to the waiting room were opening before you had the chance. Your father came waddling out from the automatic doors, two hospital bags looped around one arm whilst his other arm was draped loosely over Penelope's shoulders.

Penelope looked a lot better, a grin adorning her chubby features almost as soon as she laid eyes upon Lance standing before her. You could see her try to lurch forward towards him, but her face paled at the sudden jolt of her body and your father had to drop one of the bags to keep her upright.

“You two are finally awake, I see,” your dad said, finally deciding to simply toss you the hospital bags and scoop Penelope into his arms.

“We are,” you replied. “Sorry I didn't come back to the room last night. I got kind of-”

“You were cuddling with Lance!” Penelope giggled, pointing a trembling finger in your direction.

Your eyes widened, a flush immediately taking over your face once again. You could hear Lance trying to hold back a laugh behind you, clearly finding the bluntness of a seven year old highly amusing; it wasn't amusing to you, not whenever you heard it all day to the point where it became more of a burden than a form of entertainment.

“Right,” you grunted, clapped your hands as you readied yourself to change the subject of conversation before your fathers gaze could become any more stern. “Lets get home then, shall we? The house will probably need a good clean when we get in.”

Your dad grunted, nudged your arm as he walked past you. Taking one look in his direction, you could see that the attempt at a subject change had not quite worked on him; his gaze was almost of warning, as if telling you to take at least three steps away from Lance.

You did just that, carefully stepping to the side and flashing your father an over dramatic grin, to which he rolled his eyes and continued out of the hospital.

You sighed, shoulders slumped forward. “So they did see us.” Much to your surprise, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Hopefully they got a picture of us together. I'm sure we looked bloody adorable, huh?” Lance looked down at your mortified expression, burst out laughing as the two of you followed your dad and little sister out into the car park.

----

To your greatest surprise, it was Lance who ended up carrying Penelope up the stairs to her bedroom once the four of you had finally arrived at your home.

You had fully expected him to simply watch from the car, make sure you all got in safely before driving off. That seemed like the wisest thing to do, but before any of you could question it, Lance was grabbing Penelope from the back seat and hauling her into the house of his own accord.

You trudged in behind your father, lugging the two hospital bags along with you. Your dad walked slowly in front of you, head ducked down in the way he often held it whenever he was deep in thought; you didn't bother asking him what the matter was. Not whenever you had two extremely heavy bags hanging off of your arms.

You grunted as you swung them onto the counter. You took a glimpse up the stairs to see Lance disappear behind the railing, and it was only then did your father turn to you, an amused glint in his eyes that startled you. He had looked so forlorn all day. Seeing him suddenly brighten up with this look of bliss shocked you into a wary silence.

“So you and Lance,” was the first thing he said, and you immediately regretted not being the one to grab Penelope.

“Dad, no” you said. “No. I do not want to have this conversation.”

You tried to escape, stepping around the counter, but your dad was quicker. He stood in front of you, blocking your exit.

“Dad, please.”

“I saw the way you two were cuddled up earlier on.”

“We weren't cuddled up. I fell asleep, and Lance was . . . He was just there, okay? There was no funny business.”

“I never said there was funny business.” He was still smiling, not once taking his gaze off of you. “But you can't deny that you both seemed extremely close.”

“Oh my god, you sound like Allura.”

“Sometimes I think that whacko friend of yours makes some good points,” he said, casually. “Do you like him?”

Your eyes widened. “Dad, he's upstairs!”

“He can't hear us,” your dad insisted, though you very highly doubted that was the case. Your father had a tendency to raise his voice whenever he was excited, and there was no doubt in your mind that Lance could hear every word he was speaking right now. “You can trust your old man, can't you? Do you like him as more than a friend?”

The blush that rose to your cheeks must have been answer enough. You had every intention to deny the accusations, perhaps even shove past him and storm up the stairs like the teenager you were, but your dad had caught on long before you could even move; he was too smart for his own good.

He took one look at your flushed cheeks and his mouth fell open. He grinned from ear to ear, reached out, placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed, forcing you to look up at him.

“That is . . . Adorable,” he said.

“Please don't get all protective.” You took his hand from your shoulder, held it in your own tightly. “Nothing is going to happen, I promise. He doesn't like me back, so there's no point in-”

“Doesn't like you back?” your dad burst, making your eyes widen. You lurched forward, shoved him backwards into the living room in any attempt to get as far away from the staircase as humanly possible.

“Keep your voice down!”

“How can you say something like that?” he hissed. “The boy clearly has feelings for you, for Christs sake.”

“No, he does not.” You paused, looked towards your dad with a raised brow. “How do you know? Have you been watching us?”

He shrugged. “I know, because I looked at your mother in the exact same way Lance looks at you.”

Of all the things you had expected your dad to say, that had been the last thing on your list. As soon as the words crossed his lips, your heart shattered in your chest. You felt winded, as if he had just sliced you in the stomach and left you to gasp for breath on the floor.

Ever since your mother had died, it was rare that your dad ever made an attempt to talk about her. Sure, she would show up in conversation sometimes, but only ever briefly and he would never let the conversation go on much longer than a few minutes. It was his healing strategy – perhaps if he didn't talk about her as if she was in the past, he could pretend she was still there. He could pretend nothing bad had happened, that those last few months of her life were merely figments of his imagination.

But ever since Penelope had found her dead that evening, your father had not once spoken about their relationship. Any time he did speak about her, it was purely to tell you and Penelope how much she had loved you both, how much she cared for you both. Not once did he ever elaborate on the love he had for her.

Not until now.

“Dad,” you whispered. “You don't have to...”

“No, I do.” He stepped forward. The amused glint had disappeared, replaced by one of sadness and remembering that made your heart shatter all over again. “Lance looks at you the way I looked at your mother, and that's how I know he cares about you. That's how I know he would care for you – why else do you think I've let you hand around with this boy all summer?”

“Lance and I are just friends...”

“And do you want to be just friends with him?”

You closed your eyes. “What if you're wrong? What if he doesn't like me like that?”

Your father startled you further, letting out a soft laugh as if he truly couldn't believe your stupidity right now. “I can promise you, sweetheart, that I'm not wrong. I know a man in love when I see one, because I was once in the same position as him.”

---

Perhaps it had been the talk of your mother that pushed you to do it. Maybe it was the look in your dads eye as he spoke about her, the way he rung his hands out in front of him in nerves. Perhaps it was that suddenly overwhelming feeling of love that overcame you that pushed you to walk up the stairs towards Penelope's room, with one speech set in your mind.

You reached Penelope's door, reached out a hand to open it, but you didn't have to do such a thing. Lance opened it long before you had a chance to and was walking out, a broad grin on his face that slowly disappeared when he saw you; oh, how stressed you must have looked. If your physical features were portraying just how nervous you felt inside, you were fairly certain you must have looked a frazzled mess.

“Y/N? Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out again,” he said. He reached forward, gripped your elbows in the same way he had done the previous night. “I can take you out to get some fresh air again.”

“Can we go to my room and talk for a second?”

You said it quick, just wanting to get it over with.

Lance flushed at your request, at just how broad such a statement was, but nodded anyway. You nodded back, though you didn't need to, whirled on your heel and made your led him across the hall into your room.

“Penelope's trying to get some more sleep,” he was explaining. “I left her some water as well, so if she wakes up-”

You closed the door, whirled on him. “I like you.”

There was no other way to really do it. At least, that was what you had convinced yourself of. You just needed to say it, get it over with, and that was exactly what you had done.

For a second, the room was silent. Lance was simply staring at you, his mouth open a little bit. The sun was glaring down on his golden locks, and once again you were able to see them perfect little features that were so hidden during the day due to him bouncing around, never giving anyone a moment to just look at him and appreciate him for what he was.

And then he spoke. “I like you too.”

“No, you don't understand,” you hissed, waving your hands in front of you. “I like like you. I think you're an incredible person and stuff like that – I mean, I like you as more than a friend. I wasn't gonna say anything, because I didn't want to make a fool out of myself, but my dad's just spoken to me and I've realised that things like this shouldn't wait, because you never know when the love of your life is just gonna drop dead one day, you know? My dad told me he wanted to say so many things to my mum before she died, and he never got the chance to, and I just don't want that to happen to me. Like, you could walk out of my house and get run over, and I never would have been able to tell you that you're one of the sweetest guys I've ever spoken to, and I get butterflies whenever we make eye contact and that's why I sometimes babble on and on about stupid stuff – talking is a coping mechanism, I think. You should have seen me whenever I first saw you. I spoke so much that Allura genuinely got up and left the cafe because she-”

Your words were cut off by a pair of lips finding yours.

God, you were grateful for those lips on top of your own. Not only did they feel perfect, but they shut you up. They stopped you from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

You groaned, pushed yourself onto your tippy toes in any attempt to chase the sweet taste that came with kissing Lance McClain. You were numb, locked in total bliss, and despite the static-feeling coursing through your body, you couldn't ignore the heat that spread from your hips where his fingertips were burning holes in your flesh. Your own hands had found their way around his shoulders, were messing idly with the small flicks of brown hair at the back of his neck.

He pulled away all too soon.

He gasped as he did so, a small noise that made you giggle with the desperation of it. The sound of your life prompted him further, and he continued to press light pecks to your lips on a continuous loop until you were forced to pull away from him.

“I'm sorry,” you said. “I didn't mean to start talking so much.”

“Don't apologise,” he replied quickly. His eyes were still lingering on your lips, as if he had been waiting years to finally be able to kiss you and now that the chance was being given to him, he was ready to take everything he could. “Never apologise for talking. I love your voice. I love what you have to say.”

“But you did hear what I told you, didn't you? In between all the useless bullshit-”

“I like you too, Y/N,” Lance said, finally looking into your eyes. That spark was back within them, so bright it made your legs weak. “Whenever I said that the first time, I meant it as more than a friend. Every single time I've said I like you these past few months, I never meant it as a casual, platonic thing. I've liked you from the moment we started talking at the pool.”

Your eyes popped open. “You're kidding.”

He shook his head. “Afraid not. If I'd have known you felt this way, I wouldn't have spent so much time trying to impress you.”

You scrunched up your nose. Lance chuckled at the expression, pressed a feather light kiss to the reddening tip of your nose before he lowered his head and caught your lips in yet another tender concealment.

You melted into his grip all over again, ready to lose yourself once and for all. Because your father had been right – at the end of the day, we don't know how long we have on this earth. We cut things short, we don't take risks, we think we have all the time in the world to do the thing, but that wasn't always true. Your mothers death was proof enough of that – she had been young, had so many years left in her to watch her daughters grow old, to watch them fall in love, but all of that had been cut short, and your father had been left with unspoken confessions perched on the edge of his tongue that would never again reach the light of day, because the person he wanted to say them to was no longer around.

You wouldn't be like that. Not now. Not with Lance. Not whenever everything was so unpredictable and unsure. You would do your best, make yourself the happiest person in the world by going for the things you wanted.

Lucky for you, the person you wanted also wanted you just as much.

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countingpaperstars · 7 years

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Chapters: 7/? Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Multi Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, One-Sided Prompto Argentum/Ardyn Izunia Characters: Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia, Ardyn Izunia, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, Iedolas Aldercapt, Cindy Aurum, Dino Ghiranze,Sania Yeager, characters added as they are mentioned/appear but basically everyone’s in here at some point Additional Tags: Fix-It, I literally rewrote the entire fucking game everyone, Prince!Prompto, MT!Prompto, based on pigeon princess’ au!, regular updates, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Burn, like really fucking slow burn, Guaranteed happy ending, OT4, Established OT3, Polyamory, polyship roadtrip, Canon-Typical Violence, so some blood and injuries but nothing graphic, Spoilers, Minor Character Death, Deviates from canon lore, Alternate Canon, in this house we love and appreciate stong and capable prompto, three dimensional characters! what a concept, lookin at you SE

Chapter Summary:

Save Room For Me In Memories

The last bubbles from the splash have all fizzed away, leaving behind a suffocating silence that amplifies Prompto’s heartbeat pounding in his ears. He quickly clamps his eyes and mouth shut to block out the saltwater that stings sharply. Adrenaline courses through his veins, but it does little to fight the weight of his bogged down clothes and as his lungs start to burn tightly, Prompto makes his amends.

The aftermath.

*rolls in on heelies with a milkshake and the longest chapter yet* Heyyyy guys! So sorry for the long wait OTL. I didn't intend to leave that cliffhanger for so long but after I wrote a couple things for Ignoct week and a promptis story for @pigeon-princess' birthday all in a short period of time my brain packed it up and went on strike! lmfao R.I.P. Please accept this ridiculously long chapter as an apology <3

And speaking of pigeon-princess~ over here we have some more beautiful art from her!!! Please go look at how AMAZING this is! It's literally just as I imagined the scene to look ;; and it was so fucking fun to brainstorm with cheesy headlines with her for the mock mag. Be sure to vote for Insomnia's Hottest Glaives! As always a huge thank you to her for her endless support and friendship <33 and to Juli and Tera for being the best beta and cheerleader I could ask for. Love you dudes.

This chapter's title comes from .guilttripping. by frnkiero andthe cellabration. Listen to the playlist here and feel free to follow my blog here for updates, drabbles/requests, and bonus content.

Dedicated to that one lifeguard who saved me from Water World's wave pool freshman year even though I wasn't even drowning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Enjoy~

(Please support by reblogging!)

#prince prompto #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ffxv fanfics #promptis #promptio #promnis #ignoct #gladnoct #gladnis #Polyship Roadtrip #divenire #my writing #ITS FINALLY HERE FRIENDS SORRY FOR THE WAIT

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allonsysilvertongue · 7 years

Text

The Sabotage

A few weeks/months back, someone asked me for a teacher!hayffie au which I couldn't write because no inspiration until yesterday. My secondary school chemistry teacher finally got married and i remember being a student in his class with my classmates matchmaking him with our English teacher so that inspired this one-shot.

This is a continuation of the teacher!hayffie I wrote previously - The Proposal. I think I might have written another but I can't remember what it's called.

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: The Sabotage

Nestled just at the first corner of Main Street, the two buildings that made up the only high school in the small town stood imposingly. With school just having been reopened after two burst pipes flooded the school a week ago, the students were behaving rowdily. Not meeting their friends for a week meant that they had a week’s worth of things to catch up on.

Frankly, Haymitch was exhausted and it was only two hours into school. He wished another pipe would burst so he would have another week of respite.

“Did you see Ms. Trinket today?”

At that, Haymitch glanced over his shoulder to see Finnick grinning at him from where he sat at the back of the classroom. Next to him, Annie Cresta was carefully arranging her textbooks and writing materials.

“No,” he answered, turning his attention back to the whiteboard. “Wore something clownish again, did she?”

Somewhere in his class, a snicker rang out. Johanna, he put sound to name.

“She looks exquisite,” Finnick said. “I’m mesmerised.”

He turned just in time to see Johanna roll her eyes at the boy. “You’re disgusting,” she shot at her best friend.

Haymitch remembered being at their age, and having eyes for one or two of his female teachers; a harmless crush which made coming to school a little bit more interesting.

Still, the class’ obsession – not just Finnick’s – with Ms. Effie Trinket had been a source of consternation for him since she joined as a full-time permanent staff nearly a year ago. He found her difficult, stubborn and downright obnoxious, and he would rather much she had stick to teaching one of those elite schools in the City. It would have suited her better than here.

“Enough about her,” Haymitch grumbled, intending to start his lesson as soon as possible. “Alright so… Binomial expansions… Did the exercise I gave – “

“She made us study Sophocles’ works,” Katniss chimed in, clearly disgruntled.

He clenched his jaws, annoyed. But, he couldn’t blame the girl. Katniss preferred the outdoors and having to suffer through a class of literature with the eccentric teacher sporting an odd accent must have been torturous for the girl. Still, he had no regrets tracking the girl down after she was absent from school for two months straight and ensuring that she attended every day. Katniss was work in progress.

“The motherfucker,” Johanna nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” Haymitch warned. He might have some reservations where Effie Trinket was concern but he still wouldn’t stand for such disrespect from students toward another member of the teaching profession. “Watch it or I’ll have you in detention for calling a teacher names.”

“What?” Johanna said in an outraged. “The protagonist fucks his mother, like literally. You should read it.”

Haymitch blinked, surprised.

“What in hell is she teaching you guys? That even part of the syllable?”

“Don’t know,” Finnick shrugged and then the grin split across his face yet again. “Now, why don’t you ask her about it?”

He narrowed his eyes. Unless he was mistaken, his students are purportedly being meddlesome.

“Why don’t you?” Peeta agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

This wasn’t the first time or the isolated incident when his students, especially Finnick and Peeta, had tried to get him to have some form of conversation or contact with their literature teacher.

It was as if they could sense he was going out of his way to avoid her. He was. He was really trying to avoid her as much as he could after the incident in the library, and then again at his place, and again in his car, and the music room they found themselves in two days later, not to mention that time when he had been on his knees eating her out in the teacher’s lounge after school ended. It was mortifying how easily anyone could have walked in on them and the thrill had been addictive.

She had been so good, one of the best he had, not that there were many and truly, the dirty things she could do with her mouth should be outlawed especially given her image as the rule-abiding, strict teacher that she was. The only problem with sex as good as hers and as addictive as her was that he had felt himself craving her at every turn and entertaining inappropriate thoughts at unfortunate times. The last straw was when he had very nearly asked if she could just stay in bed instead of leaving once the deed was done. It sent him into a panic so naturally, he firmly told her that he was not interested – the first lie he ever told to her.

She had not taken that well at first but came around a week or two later to tell him, of course, Mr. Abernathy, you’re absolutely right. We’re teachers and we should be professional about it. It wouldn’t do to mix work with pleasure, wouldn’t do at all. What would the students say if, god forbid, rumours about us started floating around. Better to nip it in the bud. You had the right idea, of course.

So that was that.

XxX

“Binomial expansion is the worst,” Katniss muttered loudly after a nudge in the rib from Peeta.

“What is that, dear?”

Effie watched the students taking their seats in the classroom which she had painstakingly decorated and was profoundly proud of. If memory served her right, they should have just finished a class with Haymitch.

“Oh, Katniss is just upset because Mr. Abernathy has assigned us four pages of binomial expansion problems to work through the weekend. He’s torturing us,” Finnick sighed dramatically. “He doesn’t understand that some of us have work on the weekend. Lifeguard duties – you know about that, don’t you, Miss Trinket? You must have seen me at the beach?”

“Ah, Mr. Odair, I am sure your mathematics teacher just wants the best for you. The exams are not far off, only a few months away,” Effie placated.

“Yeah, months and you don’t give us that much homework,” Johanna pointed out. “A reading here and there, and that’s it.”

“Readings which you failed to do on more than one occasion.”

“Because he gave us so much homework,” Johanna argued. “I gotta do his so I don’t have time to do yours, and if I don’t do his work, he’ll send me to detention.”

“Would you be able to please ask him nicely to have mercy on us?” Peeta requested. He slid a box of cheesecake flavoured muffins in her direction. “These are your favourite, right?”

She tried not to have favourites but Peeta Mellark had always been sweet on her. She came across his family’s bakery on the second week that she moved into town and she swore that no other bakery had cheesetarts and muffins as delicious as theirs.

“Now, now, Mr. Mellark, I really do not want to be stepping on his toes. His class, his discretion but I do see Ms. Mason’s point. It is certainly not fair that he takes up all your time. You do need time to review my lessons.”

“Exactly,” Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Please talk to him. He has a free period right after our English class, Ms. Trinket.”

XxX

With the bell having just rung out to signal the end of school day, the hallway was packed with students. She walked briskly, pausing only to tap a boy on his shoulder for making out with his girlfriend by the drinking fountain.

By the time she reached the teacher’s lounge, she was quite glad to have made it through students jostling each other in the hallway and talking loudly to be heard in the crowd.

Opening the door to the place, she saw exactly the person she was looking for. He raised his head at the creaking of the door, not at all expecting her to be the one entering.

He stood on his feet the moment she marched in his direction, sensing that whatever this was, it was not going to be good.

“What is this I hear about you giving abnormally heavy homework to the students?

He frowned, trying hard but failing to keep his eyes from wandering down to take in the sight of her endless legs in that pair of 4-inch heels.

“What are you on about?”

“My students are saying that they had little to no time to prepare for my lessons because they were consumed with trying to solve your problems.”

“Yeah, so?” he asked. “Mathematics is more important than learning ‘bout a character who – hold on, what was it the kids said again? – oh right, fucks his mother.”

She sputtered. Out of all the things the students picked up from that play…. Did she not make her point clear to them during lessons?

“That is not the take away from that.”

“Pray tell what is?” he sneered.

“Are you blatantly trying to sabotage my lessons?”

“Sophocles coming out for this term’s exams?” he asked. “Don’t think so. I checked with the head of your English Department.”

“You did what? For what purpose?”

“My kids will be better off knowing how to – “

“Solve algebra? I’ve left school for nearly two decades and not once have I ever found myself in a situation where algebra was needed nor did I ever found the need to plot sine, cosine or tangent on graph paper!”

His sneer only deepened.

“That’s ‘cause you have no ambitions and you’re stuck in a dead end school, and the only thing you’re good at is flaunting your asset all over the school.”

“Assets which you ogle at every opportunity,” she smartly and haughtily reminded him.

He internally cursed his own weakness. She was hot and beautiful, and despite his sneering at her teaching literature, he actually liked listening to her reading off passages. Not that she had ever read it to him, per se, but he had had classes next to her classroom and the walls were not soundproof.

“You want me,” she took a bold step forward. “You are not not interested as you so claim to be.”

Effie scoffed when he stood frozen where he was, his gazing falling to her lips, back to her eyes, and then down towards the neckline of her blouse.

“Oh, you’re very much interested, Mr. Abernathy.”

“Stop this,” he gritted his teeth.

His fingers twitch at his sides. It would be so easy to grab her by the waist, settle her on his desk right now, shove the skirt up and out of the way and fuck her. It would be so easy, and it was very tempting. He could recall with so much clarity what it felt like to be wrapped in her warmth, to slide in and out of her and the taste of her on his lips. His mouth felt parched all of a sudden.

“You stop trying to railroad my lessons and perhaps, I will ensure that my skirt is a little less tight so you will not be tempted,” she whispered, the nail of her index finger raking slightly on the exposed skin on his chest.

He hissed because that was unfair.

“Deal,” he said through gritted teeth. “Dress like a nun tomorrow.”

“Was not what I said,” she laughed. “And truly, even if were to dress more modestly than I already have, do not tell me you don’t remember what we did there.”

Her gaze strayed to her desk. He did not need the reminder of what they had done there but it was too late. The memories assaulted his mind and he forced himself to sit down before she could see the bulge growing in his pants.

He was a lost cause when it came to her.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie au #filed under: the ballad of a drunk and his lady

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